“Jake, here. I didn’t mention it before, because—because——”
“Did you say the hills?”
Arizona had risen to his feet. There was no emotion in his manner. They might have been discussing the most ordinary topic. Now the rest of the men crowded round. And Tresler heard the rancher’s voice calling from the verandah to inquire into the meaning of the shots. However, heedless of the others, he replied to the cowpuncher’s question.
“Yes,” he said.
“Shake. S’long.”
The two men gripped and Arizona faded away in the uncertain light, in the direction of the barn.
And the dead Jake was borne by rough but gentle hands into his own shack. And there was not one amongst those “boys” but would have been ready and eager to help him, if help had been possible. Even on the prairie death atones for much that in life is voted intolerable.