Page:Edison Marshall--Shepherds of the wild.djvu/161

Rh gang of Fargo's wantin' mutton. But I suppose I can sell you one."

"Any old ewe'll do," José went on. "We don't want 'em to like it so well they'll want it often. The one you can sell me cheapest. We'll want it alive, too, 'cause we ain't goin' to have him for a day or two. And once I've got to pack him on the horse, maybe I'd better take a lamb."

The money changed hands, Newt gave in exchange a few pounds of living flesh that blatted feebly and struggled in Jose's arms—with a strange, frantic terror—as if in premonition of its doom. The lips of the man set in a straight, cruel line, and he rode with an unjustified swiftness back to Fargo's house.

There was only one element of mercy in the unmentionable scene that followed in the little, tightly fenced enclosure behind Fargo's house. None whatever dwelt in the drawn faces of the men, or in the savage, white-fanged creatures that leaped so fiercely at the picket fence as the men approached. But the time, at least, was swift. It went almost too fast for Fargo's liking.

There was only a single second of strange and dreadful clamor within the enclosure, a glimpse of white in the ravening circle of browns and blacks, a smear of red and a faint cry that the men strained to hear but which was lost in the baying of the dogs. The pack had been given its lesson. Fargo foresaw in their glaring