Stillwell’s ruddy face clouded and he kicked at a cactus plant.
“Was Danny comin’ or goin’?” he asked.
“I reckon he was hittin’ across country fer the Peloncillo trail. But I ain’t shore of thet without back-trailin’ him a ways. I was jest waitin’ fer you to come up.”
“Nels, you don’t think the boy’s sloped with thet little hussy, Bonita?”
“Bill, he shore was sweet on Bonita, same as Gene was, an’ Ed Linton before he got engaged, an’ all the boys. She’s shore chain-lightnin’, that little black-eyed devil. Danny might hev sloped with her all right. Danny was held up on the way to town, an’ then in the shame of it he got drunk. But he’ll shew up soon.”
“Wal, mebbe you an’ the boys are right. I believe you are. Nels, there ain’t no doubt on earth about who was ridin’ Stewart’s hoss?”
“Thet’s as plain as the hoss’s tracks.”
“Wal, it’s all amazin’ strange. It beats me. I wish the boys would ease up on drinkin’. I was pretty fond of Danny an’ Gene. I’m afraid Gene’s done fer, sure. If he crosses the border where he can fight it won’t take long fer him to get plugged. I guess I’m gettin’ old. I don’t stand things like I used to.”
“Bill, I reckon I’d better hit the Peloncillo trail. Mebbe I can find Danny.”
“I reckon you had, Nels,” replied Stillwell. “But don’t take more ’n a couple of days. We can’t do much on the round-up without you. I’m short of boys.”