A thin curl of
smoke was rising from the mud chimney, and inside the cabin two
men lounged before the open fire.
"It's his move, and he is going to make it soon. Every night I
look for him to drop down on the ranch. His hate's kind of
volcanic, Mr. Ned Bannister's is, and it's bound to bubble over
mighty sudden one of these days," said the younger of the two,
rising and stretching himself.
"It did bubble over some when he drove two thousand of my sheep
over the bluff and killed the whole outfit," suggested the
namesake of the man mentioned.
"Yes, I reckon that's some irritating," agreed McWilliams. "But
if I know him, he isn't going to be content with sheep so long as
he can take it out of a real live man."
"Or woman," suggested the sheepman.
"Or woman," agreed the other. "Especially when he thinks he can
cut y'u deeper by striking at her. If he doesn't raid the Lazy D
one of these nights, I'm a blamed poor prophet."
Bannister nodded agreement. "He's near the end of his rope. He
could see that if he were blind. When we captured Bostwick and
they got a confession out of him, that started the landslide
against him. It began to be noised abroad that the government was
going to wipe him out.
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