"You've got hell on your mind!" flashed the cowboy, in grim inspiration.
Wade ignored the insinuation and turned the conversation to another subject.
"Wils, you're buyin' stock right along?"
"Sure am. I saved some money, you know. And what's the use to hoard it? I'll buy cheap. In five years I'll have five hundred, maybe a thousand head. Wade, my old dad will be pleased to find out I've made the start I have."
"Well, it's a fine start, I'll allow. Have you picked up any unbranded stock?"
"Sure I have. Say, pard, are you worrying about this two-bit rustler work that's been going on?"
"Wils, it ain't two bits any more. I reckon it's gettin' into the four-bit class."
"I've been careful to have my business transactions all in writing," said Moore. "It makes these fellows sore, because some of them can't write. And they're not used to it. But I'm starting this game in my own way."
"Have you sold any stock?"
"Not yet. But the Andrews boys are driving some thirty-odd head to Kremmling for me to be sold."