"Crop 'em? Chief, you ain't maybe runnin' me a bit?"
"Not a bit," said Drew, smiling faintly. "I'll make it worth your
while."
"It took me thirty years to raise them whiskers," said the cattleman,
stern with rebuke. "D'you think I could be _hired_ to give 'em up? It's
like givin' up some of myself."
"Let them go, then. You can play the part, whiskers and all. The rest of
you remember that Lawlor is the boss."
"And brand that deep," growled Lawlor, looking about with a frown.
He had already stepped into his part; the others laughed loudly.
"Steady there!" called Drew. "Lawlor starts as boss right now. Cut out
the laughing. I'll tell the rest of you what you're to do later on. In
the meantime just step out and I'll have a talk with Lawlor on his part.
We haven't much time to get ready. But remember--if one of you grins
when Lawlor gives an order--I'm done with that man--that's all."
They filed out of the room, looking serious, and Drew concentrated on
Lawlor. "This sounds like a joke," he began, "but there's something
serious about it. If you carry it through safely, there's a hundred in
it for you.
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