“Can’t do it,” was the decided reply. “If we’re mind to put our horses to it, we can get six hours ahead of ’em.”
“But they may have taken another route.”
“All I’ve got to say then, Mr. Templeton, is that if you know so much you’d better take charge of the business and work it out to suit yourself.”
Mr. Templeton looked at the wrathful trapper a moment, then quietly smiled and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Now you don’t say so, Ward, do you? Are you really in ‘airnest’? Let’s take a chew.”
With which he thrust an enormous plug of tobacco under the nose of the trapper, who was compelled to smile in spite of himself.
“I guess I’ll take a chaw,” said he, thrusting the whole piece in his mouth and then changing his mind, and wrenching off about a third he added as he stowed the rest somewhere about his person.
“In course you don’t want it after it has been in my mouth, so I’ll just save it till I want another chaw. Come, boys, we’re losing time; let’s be off.”
And without parleying further, Ward Lancaster struck his horse into a rapid gallop, the others following rapidly behind.
“Git up! Confound you!” called out Swipes, “I swan if I can get this horse off this infarnal trot which nearly jolts the life out of me.”