"Nope. You're too willin'."

"I'm all in," said Waco.

"I got to take you to Stacey just the same."

"And you're doin' it for the money--the reward."

"That's my business."

"Go ahead," said the tramp. "I hope you have a good time blowin' in the
dough. Blood-money changes easy to booze-money when a lot of cow-chasers
get their hooks on it."

"Don't get gay!" said Lorry. "I aim to use you white as long as you work
gentle. If you don't--"

"That's the way with you guys that do nothin' but chase a cow's tail
over the country. You handle folks the same as stock--rough stuff and to
hell with their feelin's."

"You're feelin' better," said Lorry. "Stand up and get to goin'."

As Waco rose, Lorry's pony nickered. A rider was coming down the
distant northern hillside. In the fluttering silken bandanna and the
twinkle of silver-studded trappings Lorry recognized the foreman of the
Starr Rancho; Bob Brewster, known for his arrogance as "High-Chin Bob."

"Guess we'll wait a minute," said Lorry.