"Only thirty calves! W'y, what in the world have you been doin'? I could pick up that many mavericks on the open range. You must've been layin' down under a tree!"
"That's right," agreed Pecos, "and talkin' to myse'f, I was that lonely. But if you'll kindly fork over that eighty that's comin' to me we'll call it square, all the same—I only branded about a thousand dollars' worth of cows for you."
"Eighty dollars!" cried Old Crit. "W'y, I never agreed to nothin' like that—I said I'd give you sixty. But I'll tell you what I'll do," he added, quickly, "I'll make it eighty if you'll go up there for another month."
"After I git my first month's pay they will be time to discuss that," replied Pecos Dalhart, and after a thousand protestations the cowman finally went down into his overalls and produced the money.
"Now what about next month?" he demanded, sharply.
"Nope," said Pecos, pocketing his eighty dollars, "too lonely—too much trouble collectin' my pay—don't like the job."
"Give you eighty dollars," urged Crit, "that's a heap o' money for one month."
"Nope, this'll last me a while—so long." He started toward the corral but Crittenden caught him by the arm instantly.
"Here, wait a minute," he rasped, "what's the matter with you anyhow? I'm ridin' early and late on my round-up and dependin' on you to finish this job up! You ain't goin' to quit me right in the middle of it, are you?"