There was silence while the bottle was being passed, and then Mostano’s voice grew a trifle more belligerent.
“I no like to pack hides.”
“All right,” grunted Fields. “Take a chance, if you want to. You never know when the sheriff is going to pop up on you. It’s your funeral—not mine.”
“He don’t come out here very often, does he?” asked Leach.
“I never met him until today. I may not be any judge of human nature, but I don’t want him catchin’ me breaking the law.”
“Aw, he ain’t so much,” said Hank thickly.
“You better take your sheriff prospect and put him to bed,” observed Fields, laughing. “He’s buckling at the knees.”
“I no bring hides,” declared Mostano.
Brick touched Barney on the arm and they walked back to the office. Brick was very thoughtful over what he had heard.
“That’s what whisky does,” said Barney. “Fields was all right, until he got that drink.”