“What’s that, Shorty?”
“The fight. I had a idea that there’d be a lot of shootin’ and all that. But all we’ve done is to set here. A lot of the men was arguin’ about it last night. Some of ’em wondered if you was afraid to bust that line, or if you was tryin’ to play safe and wait a while.”
“I wondered what they’d think, Shorty.” Eph King turned his back to the fire and gazed back toward Kiopo Pass. “We’ll go just as soon as the word is passed. I don’t want to see a lot of killin’, when we can get what we want without it. Once we get on to the lower ranges, the law will take care of us. Possession is nine points in the law, Shorty.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that, King. Well, mebbe yo’re right. When a feller is dead, he’s jist dead, thassall. It’s plumb easy to kill a man, but there ain’t nobody found out how to unkill him.”
Eph King smiled grimly. Shorty Jones had been working for him ever since he had started into the sheep business, and was more like one of the family than a hired man.
“But what I don’t sabe,” remarked Shorty, “is what yuh mean by havin’ the word passed. Yo’re the boss, King.”
King shrugged his shoulders.
“I can’t tell you right now, Shorty. I may be an awful fool, but I don’t want every one to know it ahead of time.”
A man came out of a tent and approached the fire. As he came into the light, King spoke to him.
“How’s the arm, Mac?”