Budd Hankinson then crossed his legs, extended on the ground as they were, shoved his sombrero back on his head, with his Winchester resting against the rock behind him, and smoked his pipe after the manner of a man who is pondering a puzzling question. The latter assumed much the same position, but, having said sufficient, was not disposed to speak until after the other had given his opinion.
"Grizzly, when your leg warns you like that, does it speak plain enough to tell you the sort of danger that's coming? Does it say what hour; where the trouble is to come from, and who them that make the trouble will be?"
"No!" replied the other, contemptuously; "how could a fellow's leg do that?"
"How could it do anything 'cept help tote him around when he wanted it to?"
"I've just explained, that twitching is a warning—that's all. I 'spose the leg thinks that's enough; so it is."
"There ain't any Apaches or Comanches in this part of the world."
"But there's rustlers, and where's the ch'ice?"
"Wal, Grizzly, all I've got to say is let 'em come; it ain't the first time we've seen 'em, and we're ginerally ready for 'em. We was yesterday, and I reckon we'll get there, all the same, to-night or to-morrow morning."
Grizzly Weber felt it his duty to be more explicit.
"The night I was telling you about down in Arizona wasn't the only time my leg signaled to me. While it allers means that something is going to come, it doesn't always mean it'll amount to much. It has happened that only a slight flurry follored. That may be the case to-night."