"An' most amazin' noisy," laughed Squint.
After a little more idle conversation Johnny pulled his hat more firmly down on his head. "Well, I just thought I'd drop in an' say hello. Any place else to go?"
"Don't be in no hurry," said Big Tom. "But if yo're set, you might get acquainted with th' Triangle—it's only an hour's ride. They'll be in town, too, tonight."
Johnny nodded all around and rode off the way they pointed. He looked carefully at the brands of the cattle he passed, stopped at the Triangle for a drink and a few minutes conversation with a puncher who was saddling a fresh horse and returned by the trail around the eastern end of Pine Mountain, to Gunsight, where he spent the afternoon playing seven-up with Dave, with indifferent success.
Night had scarcely fallen when a whooping down the trail heralded the approach of an outfit. It was from the Triangle and they stamped in eagerly. Dailey, Fanning, and several more of the townsfolk followed them, and it was not long before liquor and cards vied with each other for the honors of the evening.
Johnny, declining cards, and going easy with the liquor, watched the games and became better acquainted all around.
"I'm losin' my holt," mourned Dailey. "Reckon I'm sick."
"When you get so sick you can't move," grunted Hank Lewis, foreman of the Triangle, "I'm comin' in an' take yore clothes. You'll be left like you was born."
"You ain't got a chance, Hank," asserted Fanning. "I live next door to him, an' I'll get him first. Here's a little more to freeze him out."
"No man with three jacks ought to sit in this here game at all," muttered Gardner, sorrowfully. "But I'm trailin'."