“That’s the nitroglycerin thawin’ out,” said Brownlee. “I dare either of you fellers to clap yore hands.”
“Yeah, and I’m goin’ to get out of here,” Allison mounted his horse. “Shall I tell Slim, Marsh?”
“Yeah, yuh can tell him what we’re goin’ to do. Mebbe it would be better for him to show up here about nine o’clock tonight. We won’t take a very wide swath the first time. It might be that we’ll have to attack more than once.”
“All right.”
Allison glanced apprehensively at the pile of fused bombs beside Honey Wier, swung his horse around and rode quickly away.
“By golly, I’d like to throw one behind him in the brush,” grinned Honey. “He’d die of fright. I’ll betcha Abie Allison ain’t goin’ to be worth a lot to us. How danged many of these things will we need?”
“Ought to have about ten for each man,” said Vane.
“Yeah?” Honey counted what they had already made. There were ten. “All right, gents, I’ve made mine, so step up and help yourself.”
“Aw, you’re doin’ fine, Honey,” applauded Vane. “Keep right on. I never did see better bunches of dynamite in my life. I was just sayin’ to myself, ‘Honey Wier sure does sabe how to make up them bombs.’”
“You talk to yourself quite a lot, I know that,” grinned Honey. “You keep it up for a while, and you’ll prob’ly go into the sheep business yourself, Cliff.”