That is why Al rode oblivious to his surroundings, meditating no doubt
upon the best means of preserving the "integrity" of the Sawtooth and at
the same time soothing effectively the ticklishness of the situation of
which he had complained. It was his business to find the best means. It
was for just such work that the Sawtooth paid him--secretly, to be
sure--better wages than the foreman, Hawkins, received. Al was
conscientious and did his best to earn his wages; not because he
particularly loved killing and spying as a sport, but because the
Sawtooth had bought his loyalty for a price, and so long as he felt that
he was getting a square deal from them, he would turn his hand against
any man that stood in their way. He was a Sawtooth man, and he fought
the enemies of the Sawtooth as matter-of-factly as a soldier will fight
for his country. To his unimaginative mind there was sufficient
justification in that attitude. As for the ease with which he planned to
kill and cover his killing under the semblance of accident, he would
have said, if you could make him speak of it, that he was not squeamish.
They'd all have to die some day, anyway.
CHAPTER TEN
ANOTHER SAWTOOTH "ACCIDENT"
Frank Johnson rose from the breakfast table, shaved a splinter off the
edge of the water bench for a toothpick and sharpened it carefully while
he looked at Brit.
"You goin' after them posts, or shall I?" he inquired glumly, which, by
the way, was his normal tone. "Jim and Sorry oughta git the post holes
all dug to-day. One of us better take a look through that young stock in
the lower field, too, and see if there's any more sign uh blackleg.
Which you ruther do?"
Brit tilted his chair backward so that he could reach the coffeepot on
the stove hearth. "I'll haul down the posts," he decided carelessly.
"They're easy loaded, and I guess my back's as good as yourn."
"All you got to do is skid 'em down off'n the bank onto the wagon,"
Frank said. "I wisht you'd go on up where we cut them last ones and git
my sweater, Brit. I musta left it hanging on a bush right close to where
I was workin'."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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