"All right, Mr. Bowles," answered the boss very quietly. "Just throw it on my bed. What's the matter, Brig?" "Oh, nothin' much," replied Brigham. "You saw it yorese'f--last night." "Um," assented Henry Lee, glancing for a moment at Bowles' skinned cheek. "Well, we don't want to have any racket now, boys--not while we've got these wild cattle on our hands--and I'm much obliged. Hope you don't have any more trouble, Mr. Bowles." He bowed them out of the tent without any more words, and they proceeded back to the camp. A significant smile went the rounds as Bowles came back from the tent, but in the morning he went to the corral as usual. "I thought you'd got yore time," ventured Buck Buchanan, as Bowles began to saddle up; and as the word passed around that he had not, Hardy Atkins rode over to inquire. "What's this I hear?" he said. "I thought you was goin' to quit." "Then you were mistaken, Mr. Atkins," answered Bowles politely. "I am not." "Then what did you see the boss fer? Makin' some kick about me?" "Your name was not mentioned, Mr. Atkins," replied Bowles, still politely. "I simply turned over my gun to Mr. Lee and told him I'd had some trouble." "Well, it's nothin' to what you _will_ have!" scowled the ex-twister hatefully. "I can tell you that! And I give you till night to pull. If you don't----" He paused with meaning emphasis and turned his horse to go, but Henry Lee had been watching him from a distance and now he came spurring in. "Hardy," he said, "I'll have to ask you to leave Bowles strictly alone. He's turned his gun in to me and is tending to his own business, so don't let me speak to you again. D'ye understand?" "Yes, sir!" mumbled the cow-puncher, fumbling sullenly with his saddle-strings; but his mind was not turned from his purpose, as Bowles found out that same night. They were swinging around toward the south and west, raking the last barren ridges before they started the day-herd for home; and in the evening they camped in the open and threw their beds down anywhere. After a hasty supper by the fire, Bowles spread out his blankets, coiled up his bed-rope, and rode forth to stand the first guard. For Bowles was a top hand now, whatever his enemy might say, and he had his choice of guards. It was very dark when he came in at ten-thirty, and he was too sleepy to notice the change, but after he had slipped under his tarpaulin he felt something through the bed. It was his bed-rope, stretched carelessly across the middle, from side to side, and he grumbled for a moment to himself as he squirmed down where it would not hurt him. Then he went to sleep.