Doyle looked serious. Nielsen
had a sharp glint in his gray eye. As for myself, this procedure of
our cook's was more than I could stand.
"Isbel, you're discharged," I said, shortly. "Take your outfit and get
out. Lee will lend you a pack horse."
"Wal, I ain't fired," drawled Isbel. "I quit before you rode in. Beat
you to it!"
"Then if you quit it seems to me you are taking liberties with
supplies you have no right to," I replied.
"Nope. Cook of any outfit has a right to all the chuck he wants.
That's western way."
"Isbel, listen to this and then get out," I went on. "You've wasted
our supplies just to get us to hurry and break camp. As for western
ways I know something of them. It's a western way for a man to be
square and honest in his dealings with an outsider. In all my years
and in all my trips over the southwest you are the first westerner to
give me the double-cross. You have that distinction."
Then I turned my back upon him and walked to my tent. His
acquaintances left at once, and he quickly packed and followed.
Faithful old Doyle took up the duties of cook and we gained, rather
than missed by the change. Our supplies, however, had been so depleted
that we could not stay much longer on the hunt.
By dint of much determination as to the manner and method of my next
hunt I managed to persuade myself that I could make the best of this
unlucky sojourn in the woods.
Pages:
268
269
270
271
272
273
274
275
276
277
278
279
280
281
282
283
284
285
286
287
288
289
290
291
292