ALL WOOL
Zeb Whitney laid the ace of diamonds down on the rock and grinned atRicky Saunders.
“Go on, Ricky. Play that li’l ol’ jack. I got high, low, and thatjack will jist put me out. That’ll make fifty thousand yuh owe meand——”
Ricky laid his cards on the rock and peered over Zeb’s shoulder.
“Look at that sheep, Zeb! What do yuh reckon ails him?”
“Never mind th’ sheep,” replied Zeb. “Yuh can’t git me to turnaround so yuh can eat that jack. Go on, play it.”
“I tell yuh somethin’s wrong,” insisted Ricky. “That sheep jistturned uh flip-flop and he ain’t got up since.”
“Mebby that’s th’ way sheeps do,” remarked Zeb. “Yuh see me and youain’t been nursin’ sheep but uh short time and we ain’t hep to alltheir proclivities.”
Ricky sat down and picked up his cards. “I’d shore like to know whathit that sheep. Honest, he jist——”
Sping!
A bullet ricocheted off the rock they were using for a card-tableand whined off down across the foothills.
“Duck!” yelled Zeb, as he went crabwise down the opposite side ofthe rock and slid around behind the stunted pine tree which hadshaded their seven-up game.
“Come down here, yuh blamed mutt!” he stormed at Ricky, who satthere looking at the scratch on the rock where the bullet hadglanced. “Ain’t yuh got no sense a tall?”
“What was it, Zeb?” inquired Ricky innocently, as he slid downbeside Zeb and pulled out his papers and tobacco.
“Somebody was shootin’ at us,” stated Zeb. “And danged good shootin’too if anybody should ask yuh.”
Ricky shaped his cigaret and fumbled for a match.
“Say, Zeb, I wonder if them same jaspers didn’t hit that sheep? Bygolly! I’ll bet that was it. Mebby—aw say, Zeb, if that was uhrifle-bullet why don’t we hear th’ report?”
Zeb smiled patronizingly and relieved Ricky of his tobacco.
“Ricky, them high-power rifles kin shoot three miles, and they don’tmake much noise a-tall. At this distance yuh wouldn’t hear it atall, sabe?”
Ricky got up and climbed back on the rock. He gazed off in thedirection from which the bullet had come and then sat down and begandealing the cards.
“Come on up, Zeb,” he urged. “Three miles is uh long ways to see uhtarget and th’ man who can hit me at that distance is plumb welcometo cut uh notch on his gunstock, and besides it’s too danged hot outthere in th’ sun.”
Zeb climbed back and sat down against the tree.
“Ricky, I plumb wish we hadn’t taken this job.”
“Unha,” agreed Ricky, intent on his solitaire layout.
“Yes, sir, I am,” continued Zeb. “I knowed something was wrong whenJim Watts offers us uh hundred apiece uh month to dry nurse thesedarn animated wool gardens. Ricky, uh hundred dollars uh month istoo much money to pay uh sheep-herder. Didn’t yuh ever notice it?”
Ricky laid down the cards and laughed.
“Too much? Why, Zeb, I’d herd sheep for uh million dollars uh month.Honest, there ain’t no large amount uh money that would be too bigto tempt me to herd sheep.”
“Ricky,” pronounced Zeb, “yo’re as funny as th’ dobie itch. No manpays that price unless thar’s uh mighty good reason.”
Ricky swept up the cards and put them in his pocket, and thensettled himself comfortably.
“Zeb