"You don't mean to say——" began Ike, with an ugly tone to his voice.
"Don't mean t' say nawthin'!" drawled Old Billee. "That's one of your irons, I take it."
"Yes, it is," growled the foreman slowly. "But that don't mean——"
"Course it don't!" pleasantly interrupted the old cowboy, giving the young ranchers a slight signal to let him do the talking. "One of your boys dropped it, likely, ridin' short-cut across our place, Ike."
"Yes, I remember now, Ed Carr said he lost his. This is it," and the foreman of Double Z pointed to the initials.
"Well, tell Ed—is he here now?" asked Billee, interrupting himself.
For an instant—and for an instant only—Ike Johnson hesitated. Then he answered:
"No, Ed's ridin' line. I'll give him this when he comes in."
"All right," spoke Billee, with a smile. "We was just passin' and stopped with it. How's things, Ike?" he asked with an effort to be friendly.
"Oh, so-so! Might be wuss, an' might be a hull lot better."