Johnny nodded gravely. "There's strange things happenin', even today, Charley, an' nobody knows when or where they will happen. Now, leavin' miracles out of it, let's put those packages on that hoss out there, an' see if Ben has forgot how to throw a diamond hitch. I'm bettin' a dollar he has."
"I'll take that dollar, parson," grinned Dailey. "Gimme a hand with th' stuff."
They filed out to the horse, loaded with packages, as Two-Spot slipped in the back door, and Dailey won the dollar. Watching the boy ride away, he turned and started for the store.
"Well," he said, over his shoulder, "I've put up my lightnin' rods, an' now I'm goin' to spit on my hands an' hold fast, for if this storm busts she'll be a whizzer. I'm aimin' to tell people right to their faces that Dailey's store sells to anybody that's got th' cash. You better look to yore tent pegs, young man."
CHAPTER IX
ROLLING FASTER
The next morning Johnny mounted Pepper and rode toward the SV. He had some thinking to do and chose the conditions which he had found were most conducive to clarity and continuity of thought—the saddle. As he left the town behind he took Pepper into his confidence.
"Little hoss," he muttered, "we've gone just about as far as we can go without stirrin' up active an' personal troubles. We can't play our hand much longer without folks knowin' what we are doin'. What you an' me has got to do is plan things, choose th' leads, an' then stick to 'em in spite of h—l an' high water. An' we ought to figger on doin' somethin' solid for th' SV. Any fool can tear around an' smash things, an' we've got to do that; but you an' me ain't satisfied with no worthless pile of rubbish; we got to smash so we can pan that rubbish, sort of, an' get somethin' out of it. An' when a feller pans free an' wide on a cattle range, he most likely will get cows. What else can he get? A man rocks gravel an' gets gold, if there's any gold in it. A puncher, rockin' ranches, ought to get cows. There ain't nothin' else to get. So we got to get cows, an' now we got to find out how many cows we want. We can't find out exact, but we can do better than guess at it. There's a limit to this pannin' of ours—an' it ought to be what was lost an' stolen. There's only one place where we can find that out, an' we're ridin' that way now. Havin' decided what we're aimin' for, we'll let it rest an' turn to somethin' mighty close to us, ourselves; somethin' plumb personal, an' terrible riled.