"
"That's so" said Mintie savagely.
After supper Mintie retired to the kitchen to wash up. Ransom put a
jar of tobacco on the table, two glasses, and some whisky.
"Any call for ye to ride home to-night?"
"None," said Smoky.
"Reckon ye'd better camp here, then."
Smoky nodded and muttered--
"Don't keer if I do," a polite form of acceptance in the California
foothills.
Presently Ransom went out. Smoky was left alone. He filled his corn-
cob pipe, stretched out his legs, and smiled, thinking of his own
brown bird. Suddenly a glint came into his bright blue eyes. In the
corner of the room, against the wall, leaned the two Sharp rifles.
Smoky glanced about him, rose, walked to the corner, bent down, and
smelt the muzzle of Ransom's rifle. Then he slipped his forefinger
into the barrel and smelt that.
"Sufferin' Moses!" he exclaimed.
His mouth was slightly twisted, as he picked up the rifle and opened
the breech. He drew out a used cartridge, which he examined with
another exclamation.
"Holy Mackinaw!"
He put the cartridge into his pocket and glanced round for the second
time.
Pages:
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319
320
321
322
323
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333