“Do you mean, young feller, that you won’t tell me about them rustlers?”
“That’s about it. But I might on one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“That your cattlemen’s association give the rest of my sheep undisturbed passage north across the range to Montana.”
“By gosh!” yelled the cowman, beside himself, springing out of his chair and glaring at the other with clenched hands on his hips. “That’s your game, is it? Yuh pull our teeth an’ then offer us grub, eh? Why, tan my hide—” he gagged with wrath and stood speechless, a picture of impotent fury.
Larkin laughed quietly.
“The shoe’s on the other foot, but it doesn’t seem to feel any too good,” he sneered. “Better be reasonable now, hadn’t you?”
“Reasonable? Sure, I’ll be reasonable!” 133 cried the other vindictively, almost suffocated with his emotion. “Let me ask yuh something. Do you absolutely refuse to tell about them rustlers if I don’t do as you want and let your sheep through?”
“Well, not exactly,” replied Bud, grinning. “I’ll tell you this: they’re going to run off a hundred head or so of your stock yet this week for the railroad camps up the State. I think it’s fair to give you warning beforehand.”
“Darn you and your warning! What I want is the names and descriptions of them men. Will yuh give ’em to me?”