He threw his ragged hat on McKane’s floor and jumped on it, reviling the law and all it stood for.
“Two more!” he bellowed with a break of tears in his old voice. “By——! ef this ain’t th’ limit! I only had sixteen left an’ th’ two best out th’ lot come up missin’ this mornin’! Ain’t no trail agin. They’s tracks all over, sure—but th’ other stock is on th’ slope an’ this time there just ain’t nothin’!”
Barman, from up on Nameless, was at the store and he and McKane tried to calm the old man down, though the cattleman’s own blood was roiled.
“It is a damned dirty shame!” he said indignantly, “have you told Selwood?”
“Him?” grunted Conlan. “Hell!”
“He’s here now,” said McKane, “just getting down.”
Price Selwood entered in time to hear the last of the old man’s tirade, to catch the drift of what had happened, and his eyes glowed for a second.
He laid a hand on Conlan’s arm.
“Jake,” he said, “hold in a little longer.”
“Hold hell!” said the other shaking off the hand, “I’ll be ready for the county house in Bement in another three months!”