“He needs somebody around with him, but I can’t be right beside him all the time, Joan.”
“Oh, I don’t mean––I didn’t––I guess he’s able to take care of himself if they give him a show. If you saw it, you can tell me how it happened.”
“I’ll ride along with you,” Reid offered; “I can’t do him any good by going down to see him. Anybody gone for a doctor?”
“Rabbit’s the only doctor. I suppose she can do him as much good as anybody––he’ll die, anyhow.”
“He’s not cut out for a sheepman,” said Reid, ruminatively, shaking his head in depreciation.
“I should hope not!” said Joan, expressing in the emphasis, as well as in the look of superior scorn that she gave him, the difference that she felt lay between Mackenzie and a clod who might qualify for a sheepman and no questions asked.
“I’ll ride on over to camp with you,” Reid proposed again, facing his horse to accompany her.
“No, you mustn’t leave the sheep alone at night––it’s bad enough to do it in the day. What was the trouble between him and Swan––who started it?”
“Some of Swan’s sheep got over with ours––I don’t know how it happened, or whose fault it was. I’d been skirmishin’ around a little, gettin’ the lay of the country mapped out in my mind. Swan and Mackenzie were mixin’ it up when I got there.”