Peace was crowding the woodland slopes, a
peace profound and unbreakable.
"The Obar's struck a mighty bad patch, Nan," he said abruptly. "Ef
things kep hittin' their present gait, why, I don't jest see wher'
we're to strike bottom. The pinch ain't yet, but you can't never kick
out a prop without shakin' the whole darned buildin' mighty bad. An'
that's how the Obar's fixed. Ther's a mighty big punch gone plumb out
o' Jeff's fight, an', well, I guess we're needin' all our punch to fix
the things crowdin' around us."
"You mean the rustlers?" Nan drove to the heart things without
hesitation.
"Sure. Them an'--other things."
The girl nodded. She knew the other things without asking.
"Jeff's in a heap of--trouble," she said with a sigh.
"An' looks like carryin' us along with him--ef we ain't watchin'
around."
"We've always kind of leaned on Jeff."
"Most folks are ready to lean, Nan. It sort o' saves 'em a deal of
trouble."
"Yes. Till you kick the prop away."
"Sure. Our prop's been kicked away, an' we've jest got to git right up
on to our hind legs an'--git busy.
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