“Makes me ashamed to think how much cash money each one of them teams is bringin' me in every day,” he acknowledged.
They were turning off from the road toward the bars which gave entrance to the one hundred and forty, when the driver of the foremost wagon hallo'd and waved his hand. They drew in their horses and waited.
“The big roan's broke loose,” the driver said, as he stopped beside them. “Clean crazy loco—bitin', squealin', strikin', kickin'. Kicked clean out of the harness like it was paper. Bit a chunk out of Baldy the size of a saucer, an' wound up by breakin' his own hind leg. Liveliest fifteen minutes I ever seen.”
“Sure it's broke?” Billy demanded sharply.
“Sure thing.”
“Well, after you unload, drive around by the other barn and get Ben. He's in the corral. Tell Matthews to be easy with 'm. An' get a gun. Sammy's got one. You'll have to see to the big roan. I ain't got time now.—Why couldn't Matthews a-come along with you for Ben? You'd save time.”
“Oh, he's just stickin' around waitin',” the driver answered. “He reckoned I could get Ben.”
“An' lose time, eh? Well, get a move on.”
“That's the way of it,” Billy growled to Saxon as they rode on. “No savve. No head. One man settin' down an' holdin his hands while another team drives outa its way doin what he oughta done. That's the trouble with two-dollar-a-day men.”
“With two-dollar-a-day heads,” Saxon said quickly. “What kind of heads do you expect for two dollars?”