He went slowly toward the house. Pop was waiting for him, a quizzical look on his face.
“Talkin’ to that human phonograph?” he asked.
Teddy nodded.
“Some,” he answered dryly. “Wants a going over, I’m afraid. I hate to make trouble, but that bird isn’t going to be any dove of peace around here.”
“Yea, I know.” Pop regarded Teddy closely. “Take it easy, son,” he said quietly. “You’ll live longer. Yore dad’s waitin’.”
CHAPTER XI
The Fight
The first day on the range drew to a close with every man too tired to do much talking. A meal from the chuck wagon restored their spirits somewhat, but blankets were spread early and the full moon arose and shone on the still forms of sleeping cow punchers.
Teddy did not resume his argument with Silent. When it was necessary for him to speak to the wrangler he did so tersely and received nods in answer. By noon of the second day the cattle were well bunched and on the way to the cars, just above Eagles.
Wednesday morning, the third day out, their job was nearly completed. There remained simply the loading.
Silent, dismounted, was waiting beside the runway to prevent the cattle from swerving as they were driven up and into the cars. Roy had told him that it would be safer mounted, but Silent grunted and Roy shrugged his shoulders and walked away.