The sheepman paused and gazed at the band of sheep as they stood in a solid mass, their heads tucked under each other’s bellies to escape the sun.
“Some of them sheep used to be mine,” he observed, and laughed slyly. “That’s the only thing between me and the boss. He’s begged and implored, and cursed and said his prayers, tryin’ to git me interested in the sheep business again; but like the pore, dam’ fool I am I keep that five thousand dollars in the bank.” His shoulders heaved for a moment with silent laughter, and then his face turned grave.
“Well, Mr. Hardy,” he said, “business is business, and I’ve got to be movin’ along pretty soon. I 188 believe you said you’d like to talk matters over for a minute.”
“Yes,” answered Hardy promptly, “I’d like to make arrangements to have you turn out through that pass yonder and leave us a little feed for next Winter.”
The sheepman cocked his head to one side and shut one eye knowingly.
“Oh, you would, would you? And what word shall I take back to the boss, then?”
“I expect I’ll see him before you do,” said Hardy, “but if you get ahead of me you can just say that I asked you to move, and so you followed out your orders.”
“Yes,” responded Thomas, smiling satirically, “that’d be lovely. But how long since I’ve been takin’ orders off of you?”
“Oh, I’m not trying to give you any orders,” protested Hardy. “Those come straight from Jim Swope.”
“How’s that?” inquired the sheepman, with sudden interest.