“I don’t like it, Cliff. Perhaps it’s the only thing to do, but I don’t like the idea.”
“Sure it’s the only thing to do,” insisted Vane. “We can’t spend the rest of our lives around here, waitin’ for Eph King to start ahead. My idea is to start an offensive. With dynamite, we can bust up the whole works, scatter the sheep—mebbe capture King again. Anyway, we’ll make ’em so sick of Lo Lo Valley that they’ll be willin’ to get out with a whole skin.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” agreed old Sam slowly. “A lot of fool cowpunchers will probably get killed with their own bombs, too.”
“The idea is to bust straight through to the sheep camp, ain’t it?” asked Frank Hall.
“That’s it,” replied Vane. “We’ll wreck everythin’ between here and there, too. Make up all our bombs here and distribute ’em all along the line. We’ll draw Slim and his men over to this side of Slow Elk, and that’ll give us about twenty men to throw dynamite. Oh, we’ll show Eph King the way back to Sunland, y’betcha.”
“Well, I wish you’d help make bombs and not brag so —— much,” complained Honey Wier. “Me and Chet can’t make ’em all.”
“Don’t bite the caps into the fuse,” advised Hodges. “Pinch ’em in with the point of your knife, Honey.”
“Aw, that’s too slow. I ain’t never bit too short on one yet.”
“And yuh never will—except just once. Yo’re only allowed one mistake, cowboy.”
“And that’s the truth,” nodded Chet. “I knowed a feller that was bitin’ caps on to fuses, and he caught the end of one between his back teeth.”