The fire in Webb's cook stove was not all that furnished warmth to the three men sitting about it that night, for they drank frequently from the bottle which, when not passing from hand to hand, was nestled on Dick Hilton's lap, his hands caressing its smooth surface lovingly ... save the word!
Sam McKee and three other men played solo on the table, noisily and quarrelsomely after the manner of their kind. Engrossed in the game they gave little heed to the talk of the others. It was shop talk, of plots and schemes, of danger and distrust.
Webb's little button eyes were even more ugly than usual, Hilton's mouth drawn in lines that were even more cruel, but Hepburn, under influence of the liquor, only became more paternal, more deliberate as the evening and the drinking went on. He was not nettled by Webb's disfavor, and even smiled on the rancher indulgently as he listened to the querulous plaint.
"If you'd only used yer head an' stayed there," Webb went on, "then we'd hev had it all easy-like. You could've stole her blind an' she'd never knew. Then you had to git on the peck about him!" He sniffed in disgust.
"Now, Webb, you're too harsh in what you say," the other replied blandly. "I done all I could but Beck wouldn't be blinded! He's got second sight or somethin',"—with a degree of heat.
"We had him scotched all right, but we hadn't figured on the girl. Nobody'd thought she was sweet on him!"
Hilton stirred uneasily and the color in his face deepened. He looked at Hepburn with an ugly light in his eyes.
"That upset everything," Hepburn went on. "There wasn't no use tryin' to play a quiet game after that. They both know we want to get rid of 'em worst way and now we've got to keep under cover an' use our heads harder'n ever."
"There's too many in it," Webb whined. "I tell you the's too many in it! If you'd let me alone, just me an' the boys, I'd felt safer. But now there's Cole an' his daughter an' ... half the country!"
He flashed an indecisive glance at Hilton who studied the bottle, frowning.