Have you got any particular system, or is it just a
gift?"
"No"--Ford shook his head--"nothing like that. I just don't happen to be
drunk." He eyed Jim sharply while he considered within himself. "It
looks to me," he began, after a moment, "as if our friend Dick had
framed up a nice little plant. One way and another I got wise to the
whole thing; but for the life of me, I can't see what made him do it.
Lordy me! I never kicked him on any bunion!" He grinned, as memory
flashed a brief, mental picture of Sunset and certain incidents which
occurred there. But memory never lets well enough alone, and one is
lucky to escape without seeing a picture that leaves a sting; Ford's
smile ended in a scowl.
"Jealousy, old man," Jim pronounced without hesitation. "Of course, I
don't know the details, but--details be darned. If he has tried to hand
you a package, take it from me, jealousy's the string he tied it with. I
don't mind saying that Dick told me when I first rode up to the corral
that you and Mose were both boozing up to beat the band; and right after
that we heard a deuce of a racket up here, and it did look--" He waved
an apologetic hand at Mose and the fragments of pottery which framed
like a "still life" picture on the floor, and let it go at that.
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