"
"Y-yes, I'll do that." Oleson's consent was reluctant, but it was
fairly prompt. "I'll get rid of the sheep," he said, as if he was
minded to clinch the promise. "I'll do it at once."
"That's nice." Andy spoke with grim irony. "And you'll get rid of
the ranch, too. You'll sell it to the Flying U--cheap."
"But my partner--Whittaker might object--"
"Look here, old-timer. You'll fix that part up; you'll find a way
of fixing it. Look here--at what you're up against." He waited,
with pointing finger, for one terrible minute. "Will you sell to
the Flying U?"
"Y-yes!" The word was really a gulp. He tried to avoid looking
where Andy pointed; failed, and shuddered at what he saw.
"I thought you would. We'll get that in writing. And we're going
to wait just exactly twenty-four hours before we make a move.
It'll take some fine work, but we'll do it. Our boss, here, will
fix up the business end with you. He'll go with yuh right now,
and stay with yuh till you make good. And the first crooked move
you make--" Andy, in unconscious imitation of the Native Son,
shrugged a shoulder expressively and urged Weary by a glance to
take the leadership.
"Irish, you come with me. The rest of you fellows know about what
to do. Andy, I guess you'll have to ride point till I get back.
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