“Yes,” he replied, “just going home.”
“Me, too.”
There was a brief pause after that, and both men were thinking of the same thing. It was of the scene recently enacted at the saloon. Peter was the one to break the silence, and he ignored that which was in his thoughts.
“Goin’ to the ranch on foot, and by way of Eve’s shack,” he said in his gently humorous fashion.
“Ye-es,” responded Jim after a moment’s thought. Then he added with a conscious laugh, “My ‘plug’ is back there at Rocket’s tie-post, waiting, saddled.” Then he went on, becoming suddenly earnest. “Peter, I’m going for good. That is, I’m going to quit McLagan’s, and get out. You see, I just wanted to have a look at her 115 shack––for the last time. I––I don’t feel I can go without that. She won’t see me, and–––”
“Sort of final look round before you quit the––sinking ship, eh?”
The quiet seriousness of the big man’s tone sounded keenly incisive in the stillness of the dark night. Jim started, and hot blood mounted to his head. He had been through so much that day that his nerves were still on edge.
“What d’ye mean?” he demanded sharply. “Who’s deserting a sinking ship––where’s the sinking ship?”
Peter pointed back at Eve’s home.
“There,” he said.