The little buckskin pony stood with wide-planted feet and hanging head; his splendid bellows of lungs and powerful abdominal muscles sent the wind in and out of the distended nostrils in the effort to overcome the effect of that last mad burst of speed demanded of him; in his eyes alone, battling against the haze, shone his unconquerable spirit. Bearing saddle and bridle Dave strode away from him to the cabin.
Straight in from Wayback, without a stop, the game little buckskin had carried Dave. Jealousy consumed him. Rumors of Smiler's defection were floating about the town and, though no one but those intimately concerned, knew the actual agreement made, the presence of the principals and their several places of call had been noted and fully commented upon. From such premises the town's deductions came near the truth.
The facts as known were enough for Dave. Whatever Schatz might be planning, Dave was satisfied that he had no part in it. That Schatz intended to treat him fairly was beyond the angle of his narrow mind. He was very calm over it, his face smooth of wrinkles, his movements slow and assured. He had passed through all the stages from irritation to rage—and beyond: Calm is always beyond.
"Mein gracious, Dave, you vas in a hurry?" asked Schatz, as Dave entered.
He hung saddle and bridle on a peg in the kitchen and strode through into the other room before replying. "No," he drawled, dropping into a chair and stretching his legs full length.
"No? Schust try to kill a horse, vas?"
"Yes. Played a trick on me this mornin' an' I 'm showin' him who 's boss."
"Dummer Esel! Und vor a trick you kill him! Den no more tricks, vas?"
"Oh, to h—l with th' cayuse! What's all this I hear o' you an' Peters in a lovin' match?"
"Ach! 'Nun kommt die Wahrheit'! If you not come to-day, I send for you. Vy you stay avay like dot?"