Shorty met him eye to eye. "So I've been told."
"Good range and water-holes. Stock fatten well."
"Yes."
"A man might do worse than go there if he's worn out this country."
"Stage-robbers and rustlers right welcome, are they?" asked Shorty hardily.
"No questions asked about a man's past if his present is O.K."
"Listens good. If I meet anybody lookin' to make a change I'll tell him you recommended Mexico." The eyes of the two men still clashed. In each man's was a deep respect for the other's gameness. They had been tried by fire and come through clean. Shorty voiced this defiantly. "I don't like a hair of yore head. Never did. You're too damned interferin' to suit me. But I'll say this. You'll do to ride the river with, Sanders."
"I'll interfere again this far, Shorty. You're too good a man to go bad."
"Oh, hell!" The outlaw turned away; then thought better of it and came back. "I'll name no names, but I'll say this. Far as I'm concerned Tim Harrigan might be alive to-day."
Dave, with a nod, accepted this as true. "I guessed as much. You've been running with a mighty bad pardner."