His will was of putty, molded into the opinion of
whomever he happened at the moment to be with. Just now, with the
ironic eye of Sheriff Burns upon him, he was strong for law
enforcement.
"A feller hadn't ought to be so promiscuous with his hardware.
This here thing of shooting up citizens don't do Wyoming no good
these days. Capital ain't a-going to come in when such goings-on
occur," he sagely opined, unconsciously parroting the sentiment
Burns had just been instilling into him.
"That's right, sir. If that ain't horse sense I don't know any.
You got a head on you, all right," answered the admiring sheriff.
The flattered Reddy pleaded guilty to being wiser than most men.
"Jest because I punch cows ain't any reason why I'm anybody's
fool. I'll show them smart boys at the Lazy D I don't have to
take the dust of any of the bunch when it comes to using my think
tank."
"I would," sympathized Burns. You bet they'll all be almighty
jealous when they learn how you was chosen out of the whole
outfit on this job."
All day they rode, and that night camped a few miles from the
Lazy D. Early next morning they hailed a solitary rider as he
passed. The man turned out to be a cowman, with a small ranch not
far from the one owned by Miss Messiter.
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