"
They shook hands. Moved by a mutual impulse they glanced at the long,
rigid shape covered with a blanket. "When the boys come--" began
Wingle.
"It will be out of our hands," concluded Corliss.
"If Sun--"
"I ought to ride out after him," said Corliss, nodding. "But I can't
leave. And you can't."
Wingle stepped to the doorway and shaded his eyes. Far out on the mesa
the diminishing figure of a horseman showed black against the glare of
the sun. Wingle turned and, with a glance at the shrouded figure on
the bunk-house floor, donned his apron and shuffled to the kitchen.
Corliss tied his horse and strode to the office.
Hi Wingle puttered about the kitchen. There would be supper to get for
fifteen hungry--No! fourteen, to-night. He paused, set down the pan
that he held and opened the door of the chuck-room. With finger
marking the count he totaled the number of chairs at the table.
Fifteen. Then he stepped softly to the bunk-room, took Sinker's hat
and stepped back to the table. He placed the hat on the dead cowboy's
chair. Then he closed the door and turned to the preparation of the
evening meal.
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