"Williams. He came from Wyoming."
"Well, this here's gettin' like a story and not like real livin'. Why, I knowed old Brand in Mex. in the old days when a hoss and a gun was about all a guy needed to set up housekeepin'. We was pals. So he's foreman here, eh? Well, you follow his trail close about cattle or hosses and you'll win out."
"I been doing that," said Collie. "The other day he told me to keep my eye on one of the boys. Silent Saunders, he's called. Kind of funny. I don't know anything about Saunders."
"Well, you bank on it. Stack 'em up chin-high on it, Collie, if Brand says that. He knows some-thin' or he would never talk. Brand is a particular friend of yours?"
"You bet!"
"Well, tie to him. What he says is better than fine gold as the pote says. I reckon coarse gold suits me better, outside of po'try. How does the Saunders insec' wear his clothes?"
"He's kind of lame in one arm and—here he comes now. You can see for yourself. The one on that pinto."
As Saunders rode past the two men, he turned in his saddle. Despite Overland's finery he recognized him at once.
Overland's gaze never left the other's hands. "Mornin'," said Overland, nodding. "Ain't you grazin' pretty far this side of Gophertown?"
"Who the hell are you talkin' to?" Saunders asked venomously, and his eyes narrowed.