"Just between us two I don't mind confessing that I'm neutral—as against everything else," Brill returned.
"Now you know how I'm lined up. Do I get that quart?" Carson urged.
"I knew how you was lined up months back." Brill turned on a dry smile.
"I ain't told a soul till right now," Carson objected. "So how could you know?"
"You didn't need to tell. As soon as that rumor leaked out it was a cinch where you'd stand. And a hundred others are crowding on to the same foothold along with you."
"And why not?" Carson demanded. "Who wants to get a thousand plastered on his scalp? It would tempt a man's best friends."
"Or scare 'em off," the storekeeper commented. "Which is all the same in the end."
A half dozen men clattered up in front and surged through the door. More arrivals followed as the regular afternoon crowd gathered before the bar. There were many jobless hands drifting from one ranch to the next, "grublining" on each brand for a week or more at a time during the slack winter months.
Carpenter rode up alone. Brill lowered one lid and jerked his head toward Carson.
"Broke—and reformed," he said. "Maybe."