Dale felt his face grow red. Indeed, this was strange conversation for him.
“Honest, Al—” he began.
“Son, don't lie to an old man.”
“Lie! I wouldn't lie to any one. Al, it's only men who live in towns an' are always makin' deals. I live in the forest, where there's nothin' to make me lie.”
“Wal, no offense meant, I'm sure,” responded Auchincloss. “An' mebbe there's somethin' in what you say... We was talkin' about them sheep your big cat killed. Wal, Milt, I can't prove it, that's sure. An' mebbe you'll think me doddery when I tell you my reason. It wasn't what them greaser herders said about seein' a cougar in the herd.”
“What was it, then?” queried Dale, much interested.
“Wal, thet day a year ago I seen your pet. He was lyin' in front of the store an' you was inside tradin', fer supplies, I reckon. It was like meetin' an enemy face to face. Because, damn me if I didn't know that cougar was guilty when he looked in my eyes! There!”
The old rancher expected to be laughed at. But Dale was grave.
“Al, I know how you felt,” he replied, as if they were discussing an action of a human being. “Sure I'd hate to doubt old Tom. But he's a cougar. An' the ways of animals are strange... Anyway, Al, I'll make good the loss of your sheep.”
“No, you won't,” rejoined Auchincloss, quickly. “We'll call it off. I'm takin' it square of you to make the offer. Thet's enough. So forget your worry about work, if you had any.”