The brief silence was perfect until the youthful Barbee broke it, not
by speech but by whistling softly, musically, impudently. And the air
which Barbee selected at this juncture, though not drawn from the
classics, served its purpose adequately; the song was a favorite in the
range-lands, the refrain simple, profane, and sincere. Translated into
words Barbee's merry notes were:
"Oh, I don't give a damn for no damn man that don't give a damn for me!"
Blenham understood and scowled at him; Bill Royce's hesitant soul may
have drawn comfort and strength from a sympathy wordlessly expressed.
At any rate his reply came suddenly now:
"I've took a good deal off'n you, Blenham," he said quietly. "I'd be
glad to take all I could. But a man can't stand everything, no, not
even for a absent pal. Like Barbee said, you know where you can go."
Cookie Wilson gasped, his the sole audible comment upon an entirely
novel situation. Barbee smiled delightedly. Blenham continued to
frown, his scowl subtly altered from fierceness to wonder.
"You'll obey orders," he snapped shortly, "or----"
"I know," replied Royce heavily. "Go to it. All you got to do is fire
me."
And now the pure wonder of the moment was that Blenham did not
discharge Royce in three words. It was his turn for hesitation, for
which there was no explanation forthcoming. Then, gripped by a rage
which made him inarticulate,--he whirled upon Barbee.
Pages:
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53