Beasley was the one exception to this general condition of things. Mentally he was particularly alert. And, what is more, his temper, usually so irritable and fiery, was reduced to a perfect level of good humor.
For some moments talk had died out. Then in a sudden fit of irritability Abe Allinson kicked a loose stone in the direction of the tethered horses.
"Say," he observed, "this 'minds one o' the time we struck color at the hill."
His eyes wandered toward the gathering shadows, slowly obscuring the grim sides of Devil's Hill. His remark was addressed to no one in particular.
Beasley took him up. It was his purpose to keep these men stirring.
"How?" he inquired.
"Why, the heat. Say, git a peek at that sky. Look yonder. The sun. Get them durned banks o' cloud swallerin' it right up atop o' them hills. Makes you think, don't it? That's storm. It's comin' big--an' before many hours."
"For which we'll all be a heap thankful." Beasley laughed. "Another day of this an' I'll be done that tender a gran'ma could eat me."
His remark drew a flicker of a smile.
"She'd need good ivories," observed the gambler, Diamond Jack, with mild sarcasm.
Beasley took the remark as a compliment to his business capacity, and grinned amiably.
"Jack's right. You'd sure give her an elegant pain, else," added Curly, in a tired voice. He was steadily staring down the trail in a manner that suggested indifference to any coming storm. Somebody laughed half-heartedly. But Curly had no desire to enliven things, and went on quite seriously.
"Say, when's this bum sheriff gettin' around?" he demanded.
Beasley took him up at once.
"Some time to-night," he said, in a well-calculated tone of resentment. "That's why I got you boys around now," he added significantly.
"You mean----?" Diamond Jack nodded in the direction of the farm.
Beasley nodded.
"That old crow bait got back early this mornin'," he went on. "I was waitin' on her. She guessed she hadn't a thing to say, an' I surely was up agin a proposition. So I jest made out I was feelin' good seein' her git back, an' told her I wa'an't lookin' for information she didn't guess she was givin', and ther' wasn't no need fer her to say a thing. She guessed that was so. After that I passed things by, sayin' how some o' the boys hated sheriffs wuss'n rattlesnakes--an' she laffed. Yes, sir, she laffed, an' it must have hurt her some. Anyways she opened out at that, an' said, if any boys hated the sight of sheriffs they'd better hunt their holes before sun-up. Guess she didn't just use them words, but she give 'em that time limit. Say, if I was the Padre I'd sooner have the devil on my trail than that old--bunch o' marrow bones."