Travennes looked back at his friends and saw Mr. Connors sitting
on a rock holding two guns. Mr. Travennes' right and left wings were
the targets and they pitted their frowns against Mr. Connors' smile.
"Not that I knows of," replied Mr. Travennes, shifting his feet
uneasily.
"Find anything?" Came from Mr. Cassidy as he sidled out of the gate.
"Nope," replied the captain of the Terrors, eying the Colt. "Are yu
in the habit of payin' early mornin' calls to this here corral?"
persisted Mr. Cassidy, playing with the gun.
"Ya-as. That's my business-I'm th' captain of the vigilantes."
"That's too bad," sympathized Mr. Cassidy, moving forward a step.
Mr. Travennes looked put out and backed off. "What yu mean, stickin'
me up this-away?" He asked indignantly.
"Yu needn't go an' get mad," responded Mr. Cassidy. "Just business.
Yore cayuse an' another shore climbed this corral fence last night an'
ate up our bronchs, an' I just nachurly want to know about it."
Mr. Travennes looked his surprise and incredulity and craned his
neck to see for himself. When he saw his horse peacefully scratching
itself he swore and looked angrily up the street. Mr. Connors, behind
the shack, was hidden to the view of those on the street, and when two
men ran up at a signal from Mr. Travennes, intending to insert
themselves in the misunderstanding, they were promptly lined up with
the first two by the man on the rock.
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