Curly’s mind was so full of guesses that his poker was not up to par that night. About daybreak he began to see his way into the maze. His first gleam of light was when a row started between Soapy and Cullison. Before anyone could say a word to stop them they were going through with that identical corral quarrel.
Flandrau knew now they had been preparing it for his benefit. Cranston chipped in against Sam, and to keep up appearances Curly backed the boy. The quarrel grew furious. At last Sam drove his fist down on the table and said he was through with the outfit and was going back to Saguache.
“Yo tambien,” agreed Curly. “Not that I’ve got anything against the horse ranch. That ain’t it. But I’m sure pining for to bust the bank at Bronson’s.
| ‘Round and round the little ball goes, Where it will land nobody knows.’ |
I’ve got forty plunks burning my jeans. I’ve got to separate myself from it or make my roll a thousand.”
The end of it was that both Sam and Curly went down to the corral and saddled their ponies. To the last the conspirators played up to their parts.
“Damned good riddance,” Stone called after them as they rode away.
“When I find out I’m doing business with four-flushers, I quit them cold,” Sam called back angrily.
Curly was amused. He wanted to tell his friend that they had pulled off their little play very well. But he did not.
Still according to program, Sam sulked for the first few miles of their journey. But before they reached the Bar 99 he grew sunny again.