“Hear them dam’ coyotes,” he observed sociably. “They’d cry that way if they’d had a chicken dinner, all around. I bet ye every one of ’em has got wool in his teeth, right now. Never you mind, birdie,” he continued, apostrophizing a peculiarly shrill-voiced howler, “I’ll give you a bellyful of mutton pretty soon, if it’s the last act. What you going to do now, Rufe?”
“Well,” answered Hardy, “I think I’ll try and earn my salary by moving a few sheep. And of course 323 we want to gather every beef critter we can now, while they’re fat. The sheep seem to be hugging the mountain pretty close. What’s the matter with working the Pocket Butte to-morrow and while the boys are riding we’ll warn all the stragglers down there to keep up against the hills; then as soon as we get ’em located we’ll jump in some day and move ’em!”
“Huh?” inquired Creede, shoving back his hat and staring. “Did I hear you say ‘move ’em’? Well––er––I thought you left your gun at home,” he suggested guardedly.
“That’s right,” admitted Hardy, “but don’t you let that worry you any. I told you I’d help move those sheep, and I’ll do it! We don’t need guns, anyhow. Why, I’d just as soon tackle a rattlesnake bare-handed as go after Jasp Swope with my six-shooter. That’s just what he’s looking for, boy, with all those thirty-thirties behind him, and he’ll have plenty of witnesses there to swear us into Yuma, too. I tell you, Jeff, I’ve been thinking this over, and I believe my boss is right.”
“Sure,” said Creede, showing his teeth in the twilight.
“Say, let up on that, will you?” exclaimed Hardy irritably. “I’m talking business. Now you let me tell you something.” He paused, and fixed his eye 324 on the dust cloud, intently. “I’ve moved that many sheep twice,” he said, throwing out his hand, “and I left my gun at home.”
“That’s right,” conceded Creede.
“Well now, I’ll tell you what I’ll do,” continued Hardy. “If you’ll leave your gun at home too and stay with me on this I’ll undertake to shoot the last sheep out through West Pass inside of a week. And the only chance we take is of getting shot at or arrested for assault and battery. The Territorial Prison end of this gun business never did appeal me, anyway.”
“No––nor me either! But what’s the scheme?”
The big cowboy leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing as he half guessed the plan.