"He's developing sheepmanly traits right along. I was surprised to see it, but it's true. Maybe the gun's got something to do with it."
"Of course she'll get him if he ever breaks out of there, and he'll have to come out when you leave, Ned."
"When I leave? If he stays till I leave he'll be a mighty old man."
There was not very much faith indicated in Edith's voice when she spoke of him leaving. Even in her first almost passionate request that he give it up, Rawlins could read an undertone of reservation, he believed, as if she kept the secret hope that he would refuse while the plea was on her tongue.
He believed now he understood Edith's position in the business. Her conscience was pleading, like an attorney appointed by the court to defend a malefactor for whose case he had not the slightest sympathy. She felt a responsibility for his adventure against such odds, and her conscience argued for acquittal while her honest desire was that he stick to it and show the sheep world, and especially her, that he was indeed a man.
That was his intention, With that friendly sheriff only a few miles away, and those eager sheepmen around Lost Cabin waiting the hour to come in, Rawlins no longer felt himself unsupported and alone. Those sheepmen were ready to jump the day they felt it a little less than half-way safe; Rawlins had seen that sticking out of them like pumpkins in a sack when they sat as jurors in the coroner's inquest. A little while, if he could hold on, and there would be neighbors enough to carry everything inside the fence.
