"This mornin'," said Loudon, slowly, "Where'd yuh see Blakely's sorrel this mornin'?"
"In the little corral. He's in there with the Old Man's string."
Loudon pulled his hat forward and started methodically to roll a cigarette. So Blakely had spent the night at the ranch. This was the first time he had ever stayed overnight.
What did it mean? Calling on Kate was one thing, but spending the night was quite another.
With the fatuous reasoning of a man deeply in love, Loudon refused to believe that Blakely could be sailing closer to the wind of Kate's affections than he himself. Yet there remained the fact of Blakely's extended visit.
"We've been losin' right smart o' cows lately," remarked Chuck Morgan.
"What's the use o' talkin'?" exclaimed Loudon, bitterly. "The Old Man says we ain't, an' he's the boss."
"He won't say so after the round-up. He'll sweat blood then. If I could only catch one of 'em at it. Just one. But them thievin' 88 boys are plumb wise. An' the Old Man thinks they're little he-angels with four wings apiece."
"Yuh can't tell him nothin'. He knows."
"An' Blakely comes an' sets around, an' the Old Man laps up all he says like a cat, an' Blakely grins behind his teeth. I'd shore like to know his opinion o' the Old Man."