"I ain't so shore about that," said Charley. "He weighed his gold on my scales an' it was one pound an' eleven ounces. It was all gold, too; I saw it."
"He-he-he!" chuckled Pop. "If yore scales said one eleven he only had about half a pound. Them scales are worse than a cold deck."
"That's a lie; an' you know it! Them scales are honest!"
"Then they ain't 'pervious to their 'sociations," grinned Pop. He reached behind him, picked up a package and turned to Ackerman. "Did you say you was goin' near th' Circle S?" he inquired.
"He did not," said Charley gleefully. "Didn't I say you was an old woman?"
Ackerman laughed, winked at Charley and went out; and the two cronies listened to the rapidly dying hoof-beats.
Pop wheeled and glared at his friend. "Now you've done it! Ain't you got no sense, tellin' him where Nelson is?"
"If I had much I wouldn't hang out with you," grinned Charley. "But I got a little; an' if he crosses th' river he won't find Nelson. A Circle S puncher saw him hoofin' it into th' southwest. Quien sabe?"
"Sometimes you do have a spark of common sense," said Pop. "Sort of a glimmer. It's real noticeable in you when it shows at all, just like a match looks prominent in th' dark. Pick up them cards an' don't do no more fancy countin'."
"Countin' wouldn't do me no good while yo're multiplyin'. Get agoin'; I got to get my four bits back before I go home."