mitted with the calm frankness of a clear conscience.
But he was nettled by their meanness in throwing their suspicions in his face that way, although he reasoned they hardly could be blamed. What they expected he was to gain by attaching himself to them that way passed his understanding.
"We're prohibited from even waterin' in the Cimarron," Hughes said bitterly. "They're afraid the river'll carry our poison, but I reckon you know all about that."
Bill flushed under the repeated nagging and harping on that fool note of his treason and treachery. He was getting tired of it. His long solemn face was as earnest as honesty could pull it when he pinned Hughes with a look so hard it was almost like an icicle thrust against his hide. The two little bony processes in the bridge of Bill's big nose, uncommonly prominent in that structure, grew white as he drew his long face a bit longer, and sat there drilling his sentiments into the Texas cowman's understanding without the assistance of words.
Hughes had ridden the trails a long time, and met all manner of men. He knew pretty well he had hold of one now who had taken about all he would carry without bucking off the load.
"I didn't mean any offense, Dunham," he said.
"You come purty damn close to givin' it," Dunham replied.
Bob Hughes gave his horse a little prod with the spurs, not that he had to charge to get up to Dunham, but to take some of his rising spleen out on something,
