" The rancher turned to Sundown.
"See here, Sun, there's no use thinking you've got to take a hand in
this. Some of the boys'll get the Mexican sure! I can't stop them,
but I don't want you to get in trouble."
"No. You come on in and eat," said Wingle. "You got a touch of sun, I
guess."
Sundown mounted. "Ain't you goin' to do nothin'?" he asked again.
Corliss and Wingle glanced at each other. "No, not now."
"Then me and Chance is," said Sundown. "Come on, Chance."
Corliss and the cook watched the tall figure as it passed through the
gateway and out to the mesa. "I'll go head him off, if you say the
word, Jack."
Corliss made a negative gesture. "He'll come back when he gets hungry.
It's a long ride to the water-hole. Sinker had sand to get as near
home as he did. It's going to be straight hell from now on, Hi."
Wingle nodded. Through force of habit he reached for his apron to wipe
his hand--his invariable preliminary before he shook hands with any
one. His apron being off, he hesitated, then stepped to his employer.
"It sure is," he said, "and I'm ridin' with you.
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