“Aw, let him rave,” Nat Raymond pleaded. “He only wants to start an argument. Listen! How you gonna find Gus?”
“Don’t know. But I will somehow as soon as the boss comes back. He’ll be glad to see the old geezer. The boss hated to fire Gus as much as Gus hated to be fired, I’ll bet—maybe more. But Bardwell was all het up over what Jake Trummer said.” Being the oldest man on the X Bar X, Pop felt privileged to take liberties with the boss’s name. “You know, Nat,” he continued, “that time Belle Ada and the others were kidnapped took a lot out of the old boy. He ain’t as young as he was once—none of us are,” and Pop puffed reminiscently. “I mark the time that—”
“For the love of seven kinds of gorillas, will you guys pipe down?” came a voice from one of the upper bunks. “What do you think this is—a lecture hall?”
Since several others took up their grievances at this point, Pop and Nat were compelled to desist and turn in. But Pop called across to Nat that when the boss came back he was “goin’ to ask for a few days leave an’ hunt Gus up.” Nat added he’d do the same and hunt Marino down, and the whole room echoed this sentiment. The Pup had succeeded in making himself uniformly unpopular during his stay at the X Bar X.
Early the next morning the ranch yard was the scene of a consultation. Both Teddy and Roy felt it advisable to tell the others of what had occurred the night before, so that they might be on their guard and see that Marino kept his distance. Pop grunted scornfully when Teddy told of the knife, and expressed himself fluently concerning any one who was yellow enough to try to slip a sticker into another. After Teddy had concluded his story, heads were nodded sagely.
Bug Eye, who was still among those present, declared as his opinion that The Pup was nothing more nor less than a Black Hand.
“With that name an’ carryin’ a dirk,” he demanded, “what else could he be? I know them kind. Saw one in Frisco one time, an’ again in Galveston. They’re all alike.”
“Yore quite some traveled, ain’t you?” inquired Rad Sell sarcastically. “Suppose you went in that Fishmobile of yourn.”
“Naw, he walked,” Nat Raymond interrupted. “Ever see the soles of his feet? All callous. Ain’t they, Bug Eye?”
“Never mind that,” Roy said, suppressing a smile. “This is more important. While dad’s away, Teddy and I have got to manage this place, and we don’t want anything to go wrong. So if any one sees Marino hanging around, tell him he’s not wanted. We don’t care for snakes like that on our ranch—they’re likely to bite and poison some one.”