heeded. They were leaning across opposite sides of the table, face to face, flaming eye to flaming eye. The can of peaches between them quivered and slopped sticky liquor over its rim.
"Anybody but a sheep-stealin' son of a Blackfoot mother beater could tell that there 's Queen Minervy all rigged out in her war paint to go make marriage medicine with Ole Man Solomon, king of the Jews!" Andy Dorson was tapping the label on the can with a graphic forefinger while speech tumbled smoking hot from the furnace of his mouth.
Again the whiffling snort from Woolly Annie. Both men turned their faces toward the source of the interruption. They saw a big hand cram a napkin into a cavernous mouth while a huge torso, showing above the table top, quivered and rippled with suppressed laughter. They recognized the sheep queen of Poison Spider despite the paroxysms that racked her. Timberline Todd allowed the can of peaches he held to sink slowly to the table. There was silence for a minute. Then, in the most casual tone in the world, from Timberline:
"Yes, sir, as I was sayin' before interrupted, that 's a mighty sad thing I heard tell about
