Sanderson laughed grimly; he saw guilt in the resident buyer's eyes.
"Silverthorn's orders," he said shortly. At the other's emphatic negative Sanderson laughed again. "Maison's, then. Sure—Maison's," he added, as the other's flush deepened.
Sanderson got up. "Don't take it so hard," he advised the resident buyer. "I ain't goin' to bite you. What I'm wonderin' is, did Maison give you that order personally, or did you get it from your boss."
The buyer shifted uneasily in his chair, and did not look at Sanderson.
"Well," said the latter, "it don't make a heap of difference. Good-bye," he said, as he went out. "If you get to feelin' mighty small an' mean you can remember that you're only one of the pack of coyotes that's makin' this town a disgrace to a dog kennel."
Sanderson returned to the Double A and found Mary in the house.
"No go," he informed her. "Maison an' Silverthorn an' Dale have anticipated that move. We don't sell any cattle in Okar."
The girl's disappointment was deep.
"I suppose we may as well give up," she said.
Sanderson lifted her face to his.