“Haw!” replied Dirty Shirt vacantly.
“You—uh— Say, who in —— owns the sheep we’ve been dry-nursing, Magpie?”
“I do,” said Mr. Adams. “I had a Swede out here, but he went loco, I reckon, and tried to dynamite Scenery’s camp, and——”
Ike stepped over and took the ropes off Middleton and myself.
“I met the driver of my grub-wagon,” said Mr. Adams. “He had been drinking too much lately, I reckon. Said he was held up by twin devils, and that from now on he’s through with booze or sheep.”
We went down the hill, where Middleton and I recovered our coats. Dirty Shirt and Ike caught our mules and put on the packs. Then they gave us each a rope to lead with.
“The road over there will take you to Silver Bend,” explained Ike.
We thanked him heartily, and then shook hands with them all.
“I hope you gents got the information you desired,” said Magpie.
“Nothing like personal experience.”