"All right, dang ye, don't talk if ye don't feel like it," Applehead commented
in wasted sarcasm, and looked at Luck for some hint of what was wanted next.
Luck seemed uncertain, so Applehead turned toward the ditch, and the food his
empty stomach craved.
"No use tryin' to make 'em talk if they ain't in the notion," he told Luck
impatiently. "He's got his dollar, and we'll take what grass our hosses kin
pack away in their bellies. That kinda winds up the transaction, fur's I kin
see."
"I wonder if another dollar--"
But Applehead interrupted him. "Another dollar might git him warmed up so's
he'd shake his danged head twicet instid uh once't," he asserted
pessimistically, "but that's all you'd git outa him. That thar buck ain't
TALKIN' today. Yuh better come an' eat 'n' rest yer laigs. If he talked, he'd
lie. We're a heap better off jest doin' our own trailin' same as we been doin.
That bunch come by here; the tracks show that. If they went on, the tracks'll
show where they headed fur. 'N' my idee is that they'll take their time from
now on. They don't know we're trailin' 'em up. I'll bet they never throwed
back any scout t' watch the back trail, In' they're in Navvy country now--whar
they're purty tol'ble safe if they stand in with the Injuns.
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