“What, me? Did ye ever know me to be sick? No, ’taint that. I jest don’t keer to work any more to-day. I’m agoin’ to the bunk house an’ lie down to smoke.”
“You’re goin’ out on the range with me, Sloper, hear that?” gritted Chunky, as he faced the other defiantly. “You heard the rancher’s wife give her orders; and, also, the fact that she says as how we are all to look to this young chap as her representative; likewise that I’m to advise him, seein’ as how he ain’t well up in range ways. I’ve selected you to be in my party. I want you for a good many reasons, one o’ which are that you ain’t got anything on me when it comes to roundin’ up longhorns. So make up your mind you’re agoin’ out and help git that prize herd in from the Washout Coulie.”
“I don’t take my orders from any snip like that, I tell you, and I ain’t agoin’ to stand for you bein’ foreman here, Chunky, understand that!” the mutineer rasped, while four other punchers moved a little closer and waited to see how their ally came through, before they tried to copy his tactics; if he succeeded, they could follow suit; whereas, should he make a failure, they were at liberty to draw back and hold their horses for a more convenient season.
“Oh! is that so, Sloper?” remarked the tall puncher, quickly, “an’ tell me how you expect to keep from goin’ out on the range with my party?”
“I throw up my job right here, see?” almost shouted Sloper. “You get what I says, don’t you? You can’t order me around, when I’m a free agent. And I ain’t workin’ for the Double Cross people any more. I’m done.”
“Oh! yes, you are,” sneered Chunky. “We’ll just look into that, Sloper. I reckons as how Colonel Job fixed things so he could count on your services a certain time. You’re under contract here. Mrs. Haines, kin you tell me how much longer Sloper’s agreement to work for the owners of the Double Cross Ranch, or whoever they chose to app’nt foreman here, has to run?”
“Just two months more,” replied the colonel’s wife, who kept the books of the ranch and, therefore, knew all about the dealings with all the hands.
“That settles it then, Sloper,” said Chunky. “We need your services right bad to git them cattle into the stockade. And let me tell you right here, you’re agoin’ out on the range with us now and work alongside the rest of the boys, or somethin’ is likely to happen right suddent.”
He carelessly let his hand slip around to the butt of his gun while saying this. Jimmy and, perhaps Harry, anticipated seeing some fireworks, because they thought Sloper was a gunfighter; but Ned could read character better and he had already decided that the man had a craven soul back of all his bluster. So he was not at all surprised to see him quail before the steady gaze of Chunky.
“This is a raw deal you’re givin’ me, Chunky!” he muttered.