“Guess Aaron knows haunts is hostile to him,” Johnny said more to himself than to Charlie.
“Him—Gallup—have big fight, too,” the faithful Indian added.
“What fight? No savvy that, Charlie.”
“Man, Gale—all bus’ up.”
“Split—all off, you mean?”
“Him split,” Charlie grinned. “Him, Gale, live um hotel.”
“Well, I’m damned!” Johnny dropped the frying pan to better voice his surprise. “Them two old junipers fallin’ out—now what do you know ’bout that? You hear any more, Charlie?”
“Nah. Gale get horse, he drive away.”
“There’s a kittle of fish for you!” Johnny shook his head uncomprehendingly. “I should admire to know what’s up. Mebbe so we find out tonight.”
Unknown to Johnny, Tobias Gale had returned to Standing Rock shortly after sundown. He had not been alone when he reached the outskirts of the town. There he had stopped, and the man who occupied the rig with him had stepped to the ground. Gale had driven on, and the other man, after ten minutes, had started to walk the remaining distance into the Rock.