“I don’t blame ’em,” agreed Skelton. “It was a dirty trick, but I didn’t have a thing to do with it.”
“You plowed out the grave-mounds,” reminded Hashknife.
“I did, like ——!” snapped Skelton. “I tell you I’m gittin’ tired of denyin’ that charge.”
“Oh!” grunted Hashknife softly.
“I left them tombstones where somebody planted ’em; but I sure didn’t smooth out them mounds, y’betcha. I’m wonderin’ that somebody ain’t killed me over it, ’cause it’s sure a killin’ matter to obliterate ancestors thataway.”
“’S a wonder yuh never sold out,” grunted Sleepy.
“Been asked to.” Skelton grinned for the first time. “Yes sir, it has been hinted at considerable.”
“You’re bull-headed, Bliz,” grinned Sleepy. “I’d sure as —— sell out if I was you.”
“Yeah? Mebbe you would, Sleepy—I dunno. They laid that tombstone job on to me, and everybody hates me fer it; and m’ cattle disappears reg’lar-like, and once in a while somebody takes a whang at me with a rifle. But outside of that——”
Skelton spat and shook his head.