“Pete knowed the river better’n ary human alive. As a kid, he used tuh kinda look after the hosses durin’ the summer. He’d go into the pocket with a pack outfit and stay there till time fer the fall round-up. Long afore I even knowed he could swim, that kid was bustin’ that river wide open, jest fer the fun of it. He like tuh drowned a dozen hosses, learnin’ ’em the channel. I never knowed nobody else that ever swum the Missouri at the Narrows.”
“Got ary uh them water hosses at the ranch, Hank?” Shorty’s eyes were dancing excitedly.
“Shore thing, but even if you was fool enough tuh tackle it, Shorty, the river’s up and boomin’ now and the current swifter’n a blue-racer snake. I wouldn’t let yuh tackle it, boy. ——’s bells, what ’ud yuh do if yuh did git across?”
“Now there’s where yuh got me guessin’,” grinned the little puncher, but that dancing light still flickered in his eyes as they rode on.
“If yo’re figgerin’ on playin’ fish, runt, fergit it,” grunted Tad as he licked the paper of a cigaret.
They rode on in silence for some time, heading back toward the Basset ranch.
“Hank,” Tad broke a lengthy silence, “Did Kipp ever try tuh git help from the Stock Association on this deal?”
“If he did, he never said so ner nothin’ ever come of it. Why?”
“I was jest a-askin’, that’s all,” came the evasive reply. “Jest tryin’ tuh git a squint at the lay from all sides. How long have yuh knowed Kipp?”
“Ever since he come to the country. Lemme see. About eighteen years, near as I kin figger.”