"Now, lookee here, Mr. Man," he said, and he said it quietly for once, "you been four-flushin' around hyer long enough, and we give you warnin' to git. We got yore record and we know what you're after, so don't hand us out any bull. Yore name ain't Bowles and you're aimin' at Dix, but she's got too many good friends. Now we've let you off easy, so far, but Gawd he'p you if we come ag'in. Ain't that so, boys?" "You bet it is!" answered three or four, and the rest of them looked their disdain. But an unreasoning anger swept over Bowles at the very first word, and he returned the sneer with interest. "Mr. Atkins," he said, "you have threatened me before, but I am not afraid of you. You cannot frighten me away." "Oh, I cain't, cain't I?" jeered Hardy Atkins, while his friends rumbled threats from behind. "Well, _poco pronto_ you're liable to change yore mind. You come into this country on a Hinglish trot and we thought you was a sport, but now that we know better, you got to make good or git. Ain't that so, boys?" "You bet it is!" roared the bunch, and Atkins hitched up his shaps. "All right," he said. "You got a job with this outfit by claimin' that you could ride. _Now_--you're so brave--either you ride that Dunbar hawse the way you said or we kick you out o' camp! You can take yore choice." "Very well," said Bowles; "I'll ride the horse." "Like hell you will!" sneered the gang in a chorus, but Bowles did not heed their words. "Any time you put the saddle on him," he said, "I'll ride him." At this they stood irresolute, unable to make him out. On the morning that he had ridden Wa-ha-lote he was a tenderfoot, not knowing one horse from another, but now he had seen the worst. And yet he would climb up on Dunbar! "Come on--let's rope 'im!" urged Hardy Atkins, but he did not move out of his tracks. "No, the boss is comin' back," he said. "Let's wait till we're hyer by ourse'ves. All right, Mr. Bronco-bustin' Bowles, we'll fix you good and plenty--the first time the folks leave the house. And meantime, if you value yore health, you better stay down on low ground." "I will go wherever I please," answered Bowles; but he stayed down on the low ground. CHAPTER XXII THE HORSE THAT KILLED DUNBAR In the Homeric simplicity of the cow camps, where the primitive emotions still rule, any soul-stirring which cannot find its expression in curses is pretty sure to seek the level of laughter. The boys were profoundly moved by Bowles' declaration of intention, but after gazing upon him for a spell in mingled incredulity and awe, their lips began to curl. "Aw--_him_!" they said. "Him ride Dunbar? Umph-umm! We'll wake up some mornin' and find him gone!" Then, as a morning or two passed and Bowles was still in his place, they began to lapse into jest.