“Aw, come off!” cried the other. “Let in the daylight, man! What did we get anyway?”
“We got the thieves, didn’t we?”
“Not by a jugfull! Half a dozen half-breed teamsters,––that’s all!”
“Armed and driving stolen goods!”
“Yes! I grant that, but what good is that going to do?”
“Well, Jim,––you’ve discovered the plan they have been operating for doing away with the stuff. That is something.”
“Sure!––that too, and it will end the wholesale thieving for a bit, till they find another way. It will give poor old Morrison a chance to recoup.”
“Then I guess you always expect too much, Jim. You’re never contented.”
“Why should I be;––with Brenchfield’s foreman and head-boss rotter Red McGregor, and that sneaky little devil Stitchy Summers not among the casualties.”