“Just this—that along somewhere about midnight, when the chance opened wide up, the fellows left behind meant to bust open the fence of the big corral, and let the heft of the long-horns loose.
They’d depend on their cronies to round ’em up, and make off with the lot.”
Adrian muttered something to himself, that might have been a threat as to what he would feel tempted to do should he have the opportunity later on to use his repeating rifle on some of these bold cattle thieves. As for Donald, he gave a low but significant whistle to indicate his feelings.
“That sort of tickled the lady, didn’t it, Billie?” he asked.
“I think it must have,” was the ready reply; “because I heard her laughing, and let me tell you, boys, it made a cold chill chase up and down my spinal column to hear the way she laughed. My stars! but she’s a bad one; and I’m sorry Uncle Fred just has to put up with her the rest of his natural life, because she’s his wife, he says, and the law compels him to support her.”
“Well, go on, and tell us a lot more, Billie?” urged Donald.
“Wisht I could,” replied the fat chum, “but I’ve about got to the end of my string, you see, and’ll have to halt, ’less you’d like me to make a lot up.”
“Never mind trying that, Billie,” said Adrian, quickly.
“I should say not,” added Donald; “you know how to keep everlastingly at it now; when you’re just telling real hard facts; and if you ever started to inventing things, I can see our finish right away.
I suppose, then, the puncher went away after he told her about the messenger he’d sent to the Walker crowd?”