"Shtopped's the wurrd!" exclaimed Easy in feigned surprise, shading his eyes the better to study the Mogul. "Rob wull be afthurr havin' a brathin' spell. May it last a wake."
Ned's eyes detected an unusual excitement on his companion's averted face. His suspicion took a sudden definite form.
"Easy," said he seriously, "you are mighty pleased about something and yet not at all surprised. Let me into the secret."
"Shure 'tis plazed I am this minute, Ned, and the most astonished critter on the Valley Gang."
"Steady, lad," cautioned Ned. "You can't fool me. You know more about the water shortage at Rob's outfit than Rob himself. What's keeping Nick?"
Easy found a matter for precipitate occupation in the barrel he was filling and did not reply at once. He was seized with sudden panic, for he had caught sight of Ned's face. The unsmiling eyes filled him with trepidation. When he at length looked up Ned's clear eyes looked through him. For once the garrulous Irishman was speechless while a blush flamed slowly over his brown face.
"Tell me," said Ned simply.
Hitching his overalls nervously and somewhat forcefully, Easy let a broad, sheepish grin play on his ample face. He attempted jocularity.
"'Tis a lugoobrius confession ye'll be draggin' out uv me wid the third degree uv yer blazin' eye."
"Tell me," repeated Ned.