“Suits me. I expect I can square accounts with Joe Tait at the proper time without lugging all you fellows along.”
McCoy looked directly at him. “This party is ducking trouble, not looking for it, Hal. We intend to get the drop on Tait and hold him prisoner till we’re through. Our only targets will be sheep.”
“Fine! I’ll take orders from you to-night, Rowan.”
“That makes everything all right then,” put in Larry cheerfully.
McCoy still hesitated. He knew of Falkner’s gusty and ungovernable temper, and suspected the bilious rancour of his ill will toward Tait.
“Oh, let him go,” decided Rogers impatiently. “One more won’t do any harm, and we might need him. Falkner is not a fool. He knows we can’t afford to shoot up Tait or his men.”
“Sure I know it. What’s the use of so much beefing? I’m going with you, whether or no.”
“Looks like our anxious friend has elected himself one of us,” Sam assented amiably.
Rowan was outvoted. He shrugged, and, against his better judgment, gave up the point.
They rode hard across a rough, hilly country. The moon had gone under scudding clouds. It had turned a good deal colder, and there was a feel of rain in the air.