know—" he considered, and changed the form of his words. "You'd be surprised if you knew th' number of people hit by that painted question-mark. I've had 'em ride in here an' start all kinds of conservations with me; th' gospel sharps are th' worst. One man blew his brains out in Quayle's hotel because of what that sign started workin' in his mind. Go look at it: it's full of bullet holes!"
"I don't have to," replied Johnny, and quickly answered his companion's unspoken challenge. "An' I can sleep under it, an' smile, cuss you!" He glanced at the distant cattle. "Have you looked 'em over?"
Ridley nodded. "They're in good shape. Ready to count 'em now?"
"Be glad to, an' get 'em off my han's."
"Bring 'em up in front of th' pasture, an' I'll wait for you there," said Ridley.
Johnny wheeled and then checked his horse. "What kind of fellers are Corwin an' Trask?" he asked.
Ridley looked up at him, a curious expression on his face. "Why?"
"Oh, nothin'; I was just wonderin'."
"As long as you ain't aimin' to stop around these parts for long, th' less you know about 'em th' better. I'll be waitin' at th' pasture."
Johnny rode off and started the herd again, and when it stopped it was compacted into a long V, with the point facing the pasture gate, and it poured its units from this point in a steady stream between the two horsemen at the open gate, who faced each other across the hurrying procession and built up another herd on the other side, one
