Pat's gray eyes hardened. "Buck tell you to ask me that?"
"Well—no. I was just wonderin'."
"Then keep right on wondering," said Pat. "You got your answer."
The cowboy swung up and rode off. "To hell with him!" he said. "Thinks he can throw a scare into me because he's got a name for killin'. To hell him!"
Pat climbed the hill back of the house and surveyed the glimmering levels.
"Wish Jim would ride in. Funny thing—Hardy sending a Starr boy with word for me. But perhaps the kid was riding this way, anyhow."
Pat shook his head, and climbed slowly down to the house. Waco was busy in the kitchen when he came in.
After the noon meal, Pat again climbed the hill. He seemed worried about something. When he returned he told Waco to hitch the pintos to the buckboard.
"Get your coat," he told Waco. "We're going over to Stacey."
Waco's hands trembled. "Say, boss, if you don't mind—"