Minky re-corked the bottle and wiped a few drops of water from the counter.
“So Zip’s around,” he said, as the glasses were returned to the counter. And instantly Sunny’s face became unusually serious.
“Say,” he cried, with a hard look in his good-natured eyes. “D’you ever feel real mad about things? So mad, I mean, you want to get right out an’ hurt somebody or somethin’? So mad, folks is likely to git busy an’ string you up with a rawhide? I’m sure mostly dead easy as a man, but I feel that away jest about now. I’ve sed to myself I’d do best settin’ my head in your wash-trough. I’ve said it more’n oncet in the last half-hour. But I don’t guess it’s any sort o’ use. So––so, I’ll cut out the wash-trough.”
“You most generally do,” said Toby pleasantly.
“You ain’t comic––’cep’ when you’re feedin’,” retorted Sunny, nettled. Then he turned to Minky, just as the doorway of the store was darkened by the advent of Sandy Joyce. But he glanced back in the newcomer’s direction and nodded. Then he went on immediately with his talk.
“Say, have you seen him?” he demanded of anybody. “I’m talkin’ o’ Zip,” he added, for Sandy’s enlightenment. “He found James. Located his ranch, an’––an’ nigh got hammered to death for his pains. Gee!”
“We see him,” said Minky, after an awed pause. “But he never said a word. He jest set Bill’s mare back in the barn, an’ bo’t bacon, and hit off to hum.”
“I didn’t see him,” Sandy admitted. “How was he?”
“Battered nigh to death, I said,” cried Sunny, with startling violence. “His eyes are blackened, an’ his pore mean face is cut about, an’ bruised ter’ble. His clothes is torn nigh to rags, an’––”
“Was it the James outfit did it?” inquired Minky incredulously.