"Well, Ed, I don't mind takin' a long chanct—but I sure don't aim to let any man make a monkey of me."
"Then you want to quit this game," said Brevoort. "Why don't you kind of change hosses and take a fresh start? You ain't been in the game so long but what you can pull out."
"I was thinkin' of that. But what's a fella goin' to do? Here we be, ridin' straight for the Olla. Right soon the sun'll be shinin' and the hosses millin' round in the corral and gittin' warmed up, and Brent'll be tellin' us he can use us helpin' push them cattle through to the south end: and I reckon we'll change our saddles and git right to work, thinkin' all the time of quittin', but keepin' along with the job jest the same. A fella kind of hates to quit any job till it's done. And I figure this here deal ain't even started to make trouble—yet. Wait till the T-Bar-T outfit gits a-goin'; and mebby the Concho, and the Blue Range boys."
"Hand over your canteen a minute," said Brevoort. "I lost mine in the get-away."
Dawn found them inside the south line fence. In an hour they were at the 'dobe and clamoring for breakfast. The cook told them that Brent was at the north line camp, and had left no word for them.
Brevoort glanced quickly at Pete. Evidently Brent had not expected them to return so soon, if at all.
After breakfast they sauntered to the bunk-house, and pulled off their boots and lay down.
It was about noon when the cook called them. "The bunch is back," he said. "Harper just rode in. He says the old man is sore about somethin'."
"The Spider?" queried Brevoort.
"Nope, Sam."