“Move right along lively,” he added. “And I’ll go along with you to see that you don’t hamstring my horses, which I don’t put past an underhanded cattle-thief like you.”
Sorenson seemed striving for words that would adequately blast those before him, but they appeared lacking. With a last malignant glare he walked out upon the veranda and down across the yard, with his guard following him.
When Johnson returned after Sorenson’s departure in his car, he was grinning sardonically.
“I shouldn’t want him running among my cattle; he’d bite ’em and give ’em the rabies,” he remarked.
Janet caught and pressed his toil-roughened hand.
“You’ll never know how much I thank you for coming in just when you did,” she cried.
“Pshaw, your father would have showed up and stopped him.”
“I’m not so sure. Father has no weapon, and that man did have one. It was the sight of your pistol that made him cower. You couldn’t have chosen a more lucky minute to arrive.”
“Well, it was a little bit timely, as it turned out. Considering too that we were coming to see you anyway, it was just as well to walk in when we could do some good. Mary has something for you to read, if you read Spanish.”
“Yes, I do.”