"I appreciate youah feelings in the matteh, Tom," continued the Captain. "Such a puhson should not be allowed to live. My impulse was to shoot him, but I stayed my hand. As I may have mentioned befo', I am growing soft-heahted. That's right, Tom, cuss away. If Block were otheh than he is, he would shoot himself. No gentleman would care to live afteh being tah'd and feath'ed. But Block will writhe onwa'd like the snake he is till he is crushed once fo' all.
"Do you remembeh what I said the day you made him quit right in the street in Fa'ewell? Well, suh, in o'deh to regain the respect of the town he did kill a man—an inoffensive strangeh."
"Yuh might know it. He'll be a reg'lar 'Billy the Kid' before a great while."
"Not quite. The Lincoln County young man was a wa'-eagle. Block's a buzza'd. Tom, I'm afraid this Jeffe'son Davis hoss is developing a wind-puff."
Loudon made no reply. He was watching an approaching rider. The horseman passed by without a glance toward the corral and loped on into town.
Now the road in front of the Burr house was the beginning of the trail to the Flying M ranch, and the mounted man was none other than Rufe Cutting. It was evident to Loudon that he had not underestimated the cook. He resolved to seek out his would-be bushwhacker immediately.
Loudon looked quickly down at the Captain. If Burr had perceived Loudon's absorption he gave no sign. He merely requested Loudon's opinion of the slight swelling on Jefferson Davis's near fore.
"Yuh've got to excuse me, Cap'n," said Loudon, hastily. "I've got a little business to attend to before I eat."
"Need any help?" inquired Burr, reaching for his Greener.
"No, thanks," replied Loudon, swiftly resaddling Ranger.