So it was settled, and they talked of other things, laughing merrily, frequently, while Mormon Joe and Teeters discussed with some gravity the fact that it had been several months since the latter had been able to get his wages from Toomey.
"I think he's workin' on borried capital and they're shuttin' down on him," Teeters conjectured. "His 'Old Man,'" he nodded toward Hughie, "has got consider'ble tied up in the Outfit, I've an idea. Anyhow, if I git beat out of my money after the way Toomey's high-toned it over me--" He cast a significant look at a fist with particularly prominent knuckles.
"You hang on a while," Mormon Joe cautioned. "You may be boss of the Scissor Outfit yet--stranger things have been waiting around the corner."
Teeters shifted his weight in the saddle.
"Say," he confessed in some embarrassment, "a sperrit told me somethin' like that only day 'fore yisterday. I was settin' in a circle over to Mis' Taylor's and an Injun chief named 'Starlight' spelled out on the table that all kinds of honor and worldly power was comin' to me. It makes me feel cur'ous, hearin' you say it--like they was somethin' in it."
Mormon Joe smiled quizzically but made no comment; perhaps he suspected that the privilege of touching fingers with Miss Maggie Taylor while waiting for the spirits to "take holt" had as much to do with Teeters' interest in the unseen world as the messages he received from it. He asked: "You remember what I said at the Boosters' Club the other night?"
"I ain't apt to fergit it anyways soon," replied Teeters, dryly, "seein' as 'Tinhorn' riz and put it to a vote as to whether they should tar and feather you or jest naturally freeze you out."
"The truth is acid," he laughed. "It's a fact though, Teeters, that this country's chief asset is its climate, and," with his quizzical smile, "this Scissor Outfit would make a fine dude-ranch."
Kate did not tell Mormon Joe of her invitation until the sheep were bedded for the night, the supper dishes out of the way and they were sitting, as was their custom, on two boxes watching the stars and talking while Mormon Joe smoked his pipe.
"Our company this morning made me forget to tell you how well you handled the gate; it was a clean cut." Mormon Joe added in obvious pride, "You're the best sheepman in the country, Katie, bar none."
"Then I wish you'd listen to me and buy some of those Rambouillets and grade up our herd."
"We're doing all right," he returned, indifferently.
"Anybody would know you didn't like sheep."