The cat dropped to the ground, turning a reproachful eye on the old man.
“Reckon Joe’s did enough fur to-day. He sot at it hisself, howcome it won’t hurt him none. Hey, Joe!”
Smeaton turned and limped toward the cabin, dragging the hoe after him.
“What do you think about the drive this spring?” asked Avery. “She goin’ to be late?”
“Been purty dry,” replied Smeaton. “Only ’bout two feet in the cut and the gates both on ’em down. I ain’t expectin’ to see ’em before June.”
“Dave’s comin’ in June,” remarked Avery, half to himself.
“Calc’late she’ll tie up here sure,” continued Smeaton. “Bad enough when they’s plenty of water. They’ll need the dinnimite ag’in.”
“Ya-a-s. I shot the last two tie-ups fur ’em, but you recollec’ you was drivin’ yourself.”
“U-huh.”
“Jim Cameron’s tellin’ me young Andy Slocum’s goin’ on the drive ag’in this trip. He’s got guts, but ain’t he a leetle young fur the job?”