“I know you didn’t say it,” said Hardy, “but you hinted it good and strong, all right. And when a man comes as near to it as you have I think I’ve got a right to ask him straight out what his intentions are. Now how about it––are you going to sheep us out next Fall or are you going to give us a chance?”
“Oh hell!” burst out Swope, in a mock fury, “I’m never going to talk to you any more! You’re crazy, man! I never said I was going to sheep you out!”
“No,” retorted Hardy dryly, “and you never said you wasn’t, either.”
“Yes, I did, too,” spat back Swope, seizing at a straw. “Didn’t I introduce you to my boss herder and tell him to keep off your range?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hardy coldly. “Did you?”
For a moment the sheepman sat rigid in the darkness. Then he rose to his feet, cursing.
“Well, you can jest politely go to hell,” he said, with venomous deliberation, and racked off down the street.