Ef it wa'an't that way I
couldn't see myself wastin' a valuable life lookin' at grass, hearin'
talk of grass, smellin' grass, an' durned nigh eatin' grass. I tell
you right here it takes me countin' my legs twice a day to keep me from
the delusion I got four, an' every time I got to shake my head at some
haf soused bum who's needin' credit I'm scared to death my blamed
ears'll start right in flappin'. Why, yes, I guess it's some place--if
you don't know no other."
Bud was eager to get to the end of the task he had assumed for his
friend. He wanted the facts, all the facts as far as they were
available, of the terrible enactments in that valley of his early youth.
"An' who antied the price?" he demanded.
"Who? Why, the President of the Western Union Cattle Breeders'
Association--Dug McFarlane."
"And you don't know who--accepted it?"
It was Jeff who put the question, and Bud, looking on, saw the steely
gleam that lit the man's eyes as he spoke.
But Ju's amiability was passing. He was getting tired of a subject
which dealt with another man's profit.
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