“That’s the first I’ve heard of it,” said Keating, his eyes opening a little wider in surprise.
“You was asleep,” explained Spirlaw tersely.
Keating stared curiously at the road boss for a minute, then he glanced again at the super’s letter which he still held in his hand.
“Carleton says he is depending on you to put this work through if it’s a possible thing. You don’t really think we’ll have any serious trouble here though, do you?”
Spirlaw bit deeply into his plug before he answered.
“Yes, son; I do,” he said at last, “And there’s a good many reasons why we will, too. Once start ‘em goin’ an’ there’s no worse hellions on earth than the breed we’re livin’ next door to. Furthermore they don’t love me—they’re just afraid of me as, by the holy razoo, I mean ‘em to be. Let ‘em once get a smell of the upper hand an’ it would be all day an’ good-by. Let ‘em get goin’ good at Big Cloud an’ they’ll get goin’ good here—they’ll kind of figur’ then that there ain’t any law to bother ‘em—an’, unless I miss my guess, Big Cloud’s in for the hottest celebration in its history, which will be goin’ some for it’s had a few before that weren’t tame by a damn sight.”
“Well,” inquired Keating, “what do you intend to do?”
“H’m-m,” drawled Spirlaw reflectively, and there was a speculative look in his eyes as they roved over his assistant. “That’s what I’ve been chewin’ over since I caught that skunk Kuryla last night. As far as I can figur’ it the chance of trouble here depends on how far those cusses go at Big Cloud. If I knew that, I’d know what to expect, h’m? I thought I’d send you up to headquarters for a day. You could have a talk with the super, tell him just where we stand here, an’ size things up there generally. What do you say?”
“Why, of course. All right, if you want me to,” agreed Keating readily.
“That’s the boy,” said Spirlaw, heartily. “Number Twelve will be along in half an hour. I’ll flag her, an’ you can go an’ get ready now. I’ll give you a letter to take along to Carleton.”