Examining the kyacks he found that they
contained flour, beans, salt, sugar, and coffee. Evidently the herders
had intended making the deserted ranch-house their headquarters. He
wondered vaguely where the Mexicans were. The thought that they might
return did not worry him. He knew what he would do in that instance.
He would find out which one was 'Sandro . . . and then . . .
The bleating of the stray sheep annoyed him. He told Chance to stay in
the room. Then he stalked out and opened the gate. "Mebby they want
water. I dunno. Them's Loring's sheep, all right, but they ain't to
blame for--for Sinker." With the idea came a more reasonable mood.
The sheep were not to blame for the killing of Sinker. The sheep
belonged to Loring. The herders, also, practically belonged to Loring.
They were only following his bidding when they protected the sheep.
With such reasoning he finally concluded that Loring, not his herder,
was responsible for the cowboy's death. He returned to the house,
built a fire, and cooked an indifferent meal.
Sundown sat up suddenly. In the dim light of the moon flickering
through the dusty panes he saw Chance standing close to the door with
neck bristling and head lowered.
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