“I’ve had occasional dealings with him—and got the worst of it,” Haines answered carelessly, fingering the gun at his knee and glancing eastward.
“I’ve heard that he’s pretty shrewd,” said Somers, with a laugh.
“Too keen for me,” remarked Haines. “It takes a mighty good man to get ahead of him—and stay ahead.”
“Then you’re in the cattle business, too?” queried Somers.
“In a desultory sort of way. Just now I’m thinking of getting out of it; it’s too wearing; keeps me too much on the jump.”
Somers chuckled, and patted the lean man’s broad shoulder affectionately.
“Same old Tubby!” he said. “Always wanted to take things easy. I never could understand why the boys dubbed you Tubby, when ‘Sleepy’ or ‘Lazy’ would have been so much more appropriate.”
“Called me Tubby because I was lean. Just as they named you ‘Scrappy’ because you never would fight,” the other observed.
“Why should I fight,” laughed Somers, “when I had such a valiant champion in you?”
“Well, you needed a champion,” said Haines, with a kindly gleam in his eyes. “You were about as puny as they made ’em; and fighting was fun for me—then.”