“Don’t be foolish, Hornby. I need your advice, for I’m plumb locoed on this business,” urged the rancher.
“Is that all ye got to say?”
“No. I have something else to say. Hornby, we’re neighbors, not very good ones, but we’re neighbors just the same, and neighbors should stand together. I suppose the rustlers have been at your herd as well as mine.”
“I reckon if they keeps on I won’t have a steer on four feet left,” growled Hornby.
“Then will you join in with me, turn your men over and make a big drive with me to rid this part of the country of all those critters?”
“I reckon you an’ me couldn’t hitch up fer anything. We’d be for shootin’ each other up ’fore we’d got out of the valley. You’ve got a rotten temper, an’ when I’m riled up I ain’t no good company either. Who be these folks that ye say is yer friends?”
“They are my friends, and that’s all that need be said,” retorted Bindloss with some heat, for he did not like the tone nor the insinuation in Hornby’s reply.
While the men were talking, Grace had dismounted and she and Judy had strolled away and engaged in earnest conversation, during which Grace told her all that had happened at the Circle O ranch. What Grace especially wanted to convey was that, knowing the mountains as she did, Judy might be able to assist them in finding out what had happened to Stacy. Judy shook her head saying that she couldn’t. Grace closed the subject instantly and walked back to Bindloss.
“Man!” cried the owner of the Circle O. “The ruffians not only tried to steal the ponies right out of my corral, but they shot my place all up and hit my friend, Lieutenant Wingate. He caught two of them and shot some others, I reckon, but the two got away later on with the assistance of their friends. I’ve reached my limit, Hornby. The next thing I know I’ll be killing somebody.”
“Providin’ they don’t git ye first,” leered Hornby. “I said ye had a rotten temper, and ye’ve proved it. Nope, Joe, you an’ me can’t hitch up nohow. I’ll run my own shebang and I reckon ye can do the same with yours or quit. I don’t give a dad-blasted rap which ye do. And as fer thet Lootenant friend of yours, tell him he’d better watch out and not git too handy with thet gun o’ hissen, fer thar’s some rough fellers in these mountains thet’d make hash of him instanter if ever they sot eyes on him. This ain’t no place for dudes, Joe Bindloss, an’ ye knows it as well as I do. Thet’s all I got to say to ye.”