The Happy Family had expected him to swear at them stormily; to accuse them of vile things; to call them such names as his memory could seize upon or his ingenuity invent. They had been careful to prepare a list of plausible reasons for leaving then. They had first invented a gold rumor that they hoped would sound convincing, but Andy had insisted upon telling him straightforwardly that they did not favor fence-building and ditch-digging and such back-breaking toil; that they were range men and they demanded range work or none; that if they must dig ditches and build fences and perform like menial tasks, they preferred doing it for themselves.
"That," said Andy, "makes us out such dirty, low-down sons-of-guns we'd have to climb a tree to look a snake in the eye, but it's got the grain of truth that'll make it go down. We DON'T love this farming graft, and the Old Man knows it. He's heard us kicking often enough. That's where it'll git him.
He'll believe this last stretch of fence is what made us throw him down, and he'll be so mad he'll cuss us out till the neighbors'll think the smoke's a prairie fire. We'll get our time, all right' and the things he'll say will likely make us so hot we can all talk convincing when we hit town.
Keep a stiff upper lip, boys. We got to do it, and he'll make us mad, so it won't be as hard as you imagine."
The theory was good, and revealed a knowledge of human nature that made one cease to wonder why Andy was a prince of convincing liars. The theory was good--nothing in the world was the matter with it, except that in this particular instance it did not work. The Old Man did not ask for their reasons, excuses or explanations. Neither did he say anything or do anything to make them mad. He just sat there, with his face gray and hard, and said nothing at all.
The Little Doctor appeared with the required books and a fountain pen; saw the Happy Family standing there like condemned men at the steps; saw the Old Man's face, and trembled wide-eyed upon the verge of speech. Then she decided that this was no time for questioning and hurried, still wide of eye, away from sight of them. The Happy Family did not look at one another--they looked chiefly at the wall of the house.
The Old Man reckoned the wages due each one, and wrote a check for the exact amount. And he spoke no word that did not intimately concern the matter in hand. He still had that gray, hard look in his face that froze whatever explanation they would otherwise have volunteered. And when he handed the last man--who was Patsy--his check, he got up stiffly and turned his back on them, and went inside and closed the door while yet they lingered, waiting to explain.
At the bunk-house, whence they walked silently, Slim turned suddenly upon their leader. His red face had gone a sallow white, and the whites of his eyes were veined with red.
"If that there land business falls down anywhere because you lied to us, Andy Green' I'll kill you fer this" he stated flatly.
"If it Does, Slim, I'll stand and let yuh shoot me as full of lead as you like," Andy promised, in much the same tone. Then he strove to shake off the spell of the Old Man's stricken silence. "Buck up, boys. He'll thank us for what we aim to do--when he knows all about it."
"Well, it seems to me," sighed Weary lugubriously, "we mighta managed it without hitting the Old Man a wallop in the back, like that."
"How'n hell did I know he'd take it the way he did?" Andy questioned sharply, and began throwing his personal belongings into his "war-bag" as if he had a grudge against his own clothes.
"Aw, looks to me like he was glad to git shet of us!" grumbled Happy Jack. "I betche he's more tickled than sorry, right now."
It was an exceedingly unhappy Family that rode up the Hog's Back upon their private mounts, and away from the Flying U; in spite of Chip's assurance that he would tell the Old Man all about it as soon as he could, it was an ill-humored Family that rode into Dry Lake and cashed their several checks at the desk of the General store which also did an informal banking business, and afterwards took the train for Great Falls.
The news spread through the town that old J. G. Whitmore had fired the Happy Family in a bunch for some unforgivable crime against the peace and dignity of the outfit, and that the boys were hatching up some scheme to get even. From the gossip that was rolled relishfully upon the tongues of the Dry Lake scandal lovers, the Happy Family must have been more than sufficiently convincing.
