circles to git anywheres
near Ramon," Applehead retorted, looking back at the others. "They's so, dang
many things he MIGHT be aimin' to do, that I ain't been right easy in my mind
the last day or two, and I'm tellin' ye so. 'S like a storm--I kin smell
trouble two days off; that's mebby why I'm still alive an' able to fork a
boss. An' I'm tellin' you right now, I kin smell trouble stronger'n a polecat
under the chicken-house!"
"Well, by cripes, let 'er come!" Big Medicine roared cheerfully, inspecting a
battered plug of "chewin'" to see where was the most inviting corner in which
to set his teeth. "Me'n' trouble has locked horns more'n once, 'n' I'd feel
right lonesome if I thought our trails'd never cross agin. Why, down in
Coconino County--" He went off into a long recital of certain extremely bloody
chapters in the history of that famed county as chronicled by one Bud Welch,
otherwise known as Big Medicine--and not because of his modesty, you may be
sure.
Noon of that day found them plodding across a high, barren mesa under a
burning sun. Since red dawn they had been riding, and the horses showed their
need of water. They lagged often into a heavy-footed walk and their ears
drooped dispiritedly.
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