“Thanks, Abel, but I’m not leadin’ any more kin an’ friends into this heah deal.”
“Wal, jest as y’u say. But I’d like damn bad to jine with y’u.... My brother Ted was shot last night.”
“Ted! Is he daid?” ejaculated Isbel, blankly.
“We can’t find out,” replied Meeker. “Jim says thet Jeff Campbell said thet Ted went into Greaves’s place last night. Greaves allus was friendly to Ted, but Greaves wasn’t thar—”
“No, he shore wasn’t,” interrupted Isbel, with a dark smile, “an’ he never will be there again.”
Meeker nodded with slow comprehension and a shade crossed his face.
“Wal, Campbell claimed he’d heerd from some one who was thar. Anyway, the Jorths were drinkin’ hard, an’ they raised a row with Ted—same old sheep talk an’ somebody shot him. Campbell said Ted was thrown out back, an’ he was shore he wasn’t killed.”
“Ahuh! Wal, I’m sorry, Abel, your family had to lose in this. Maybe Ted’s not bad hurt. I shore hope so.... An’ y’u an’ Jim keep out of the fight, anyway.”
“All right, Isbel. But I reckon I’ll give y’u a hunch. If this heah fight lasts long the whole damn Basin will be in it, on one side or t’other.”
“Abe, you’re talkin’ sense,” broke in Blaisdell. “An’ that’s why we’re up heah for quick action.”