“I reckon,” Houck grunted.
Platt noticed that he limped slightly. He had no feeling of friendliness toward Houck, but common civility made him inquire how the wounded leg was doing. After the Indian campaign the Brown’s Park man had gone to Meeker for his convalescence. That had been two months since.
“’S all right,” growled the big fellow.
“Good. Thought you kinda favored it a little when you walked.”
The Brown’s Park man bought a plug of chewing tobacco and a shirt.
“Guess the soldiers got the Utes corralled all right by this time. Hear anything new about that?” Platt asked by way of making conversation.
“No,” Houck replied shortly. “Got an empty gunnysack I could have?”
“Sure.” The storekeeper found one and a string with which to tie it.
“I’ll take a slab of side meat an’ a pound of ground coffee,” the big man growled.
He made other purchases,—flour, corn meal, beans, and canned tomatoes. These he put in the gunnysack, tying the open end. Out of the side door he went to the horses standing by the big freight wagons. The contents of the sack he transferred to saddle-bags.