After supper he separated himself from his companions under pretext of cleaning his saddlery. He hauled a bucket of water, and went down to the lower corrals and disposed his accoutrements for the operation, but he did no work until he saw Arizona approaching. That unkempt personage loafed up in a sort of manner that plainly said he didn’t care if he came or not. But Tresler knew this was only his manner. The cleaning of the saddle now proceeded with assiduity, and Arizona sat himself down on a fallen log and spat tobacco-juice around him. At last he settled himself, nursing one knee in his clasped hands, and spoke with that air of absolute conviction which always characterized him.
“Say, Jake’s grittin’ his teeth tight,” he said. Then, as an afterthought, “But he ain’t showin’ ’em.”
Tresler looked up and studied the cadaverous face before him.
“You mean—about——”
“Wal, I wus jest figgerin’ on how you wus standin’. Seems likely you’re standin’ lookin’ east wi’ a feller due west who’s got the drop on yer; which, to my reckonin’, ain’t as safe as handin’ trac’s to a lodge o’ Cheyenne neches on the war-path.”
“You think that Jake’s quietly getting the drop on me?”
“Wal, I allow ef I wus Jake I’d be gettin’ a’mighty busy that way. An’ I kind o’ calc’late that’s wot he’s doin’.”
Tresler smiled and returned to his work. “And what form do you think his ‘drop’ will take?” he asked, without looking up.
“I ain’t gifted wi’ imagination. Y’ ain’t never sure which way a blind mule’s likely ter kick. Jake’s in the natur’ of a blind mule. What I sez is, watch him. Don’t look east when he’s west. Say,” he went on, in a tone of disgust, “you Noo Yorkers make me sick. Ther’ ain’t nothin’ ter hittin’ a feller an’ makin’ him sore. It on’y gives him time to git mad. A gun’s handy an’ sudden. On’y you need a goodish bore ef you’re goin’ ter perf’rate the hide of a guy like Jake. Pshaw!” he finished up witheringly, “you fellers ain’t got shut o’ last century.”
“Maybe we haven’t,” Tresler retorted, with a good-humored laugh; “but your enterprise has carried you so far ahead of time that you’ve overlapped. I tell you, man, you’re back in the savage times. You’re groping in the prehistoric periods—Jurassic, Eocene, or some such.”