"'Course I can—but I ain't goin' to. And I wouldn't if I was you. No use showin' your hand so early in the game." And Shoop laughed.
"Well, she's full—six aces," said Fadeaway, touching his holster significantly.
"And Jack throws the fastest gun on the Concho," said Shoop, his genial smile gone; his face flushed. "I been your friend, if I do say it, Fade. But don't you go away with any little ole idea that I ain't workin' for Jack Corliss."
"What's that to me? I'm fired, ain't I?"
"Correct. Only I was thinkin' your cayuse is all in. You couldn't get out of sight on him tonight. But you can take one of my string and send it back when you get ready."
"Oh, I ain't sweatin' to hit the trail," said Fadeaway, for the benefit of his audience.
"All right, Fade. But the boss is. It's up to you."
After he had eaten, Fadeaway rolled his few belongings in his slicker and tied it to the saddle. He was not afraid of Corliss, but like men of his stamp he wanted Corliss to know that he was not alone unafraid, but willing to be aggressive. He mounted and rode up to the ranch-house. Corliss, who had seen him approach through the window, sat at his desk, waiting for the cow-boy to dismount and come in. But Fadeaway sat his horse, determined to make the rancher come outside.
Corliss understood, and pushing back his chair, strode to the doorway. "Want to see me?" he asked.
Fadeaway noticed that Corliss was unarmed, and he twisted the circumstance to suit a false interpretation of the fact. "Playin' safe!" he sneered.