"Who let those horses get away?" demanded Henry Lee, as he rounded up his night herders by the corral. "Not me!" said the members of the first guard. "We never stopped ridin'," said the second guard. "They was gone when we come on," said the third guard. And the fourth guard swore they were innocent. "Well, somebody's been asleep--that's all I know!" said Henry Lee; and he sent off two mountain men on their best mounts to trail the runaways down and bring them back. Then he listened to the mutual recriminations of the night herders, and guessed shrewdly at who was at fault. For when the night herders get to quarreling among themselves, waking each other up ahead of time, and sleeping on one hand till it slips and wakes them up, that is a sure sign and precursor of greater troubles to come, and it calls for an iron hand. Even as he was listening, a row broke out in the round corral, where the cowboys were roping their mounts. "Turn that hawse loose!" roared Brigham, suddenly mounting up on the fence. "I will not!" retorted the voice of Hardy Atkins from within. "He belongs to my mount!" protested Brigham with appropriate oaths. "I don't care whose mount he belongs to!" snarled the ex-straw-boss, dragging the horse out by the neck. "You top hands mash yore ear all night and let my hawses drift--and then expect me to walk. You bet yore boots that don't go--I'll take the best I can find. You can't put _me_ afoot!" "I'll put you on yore back," rumbled Brigham, dropping truculently down from his perch, "if you try to git gay with me. You may be from Bitter Crick, Texas, but you got to whip me before you break into my mount!" "Well, he's got the Bat Wing brand on 'im," sulked Atkins; "that's all I know. And as long as they's a hawse left in the remuda----" "Here, here!" said Henry Lee, walking in on the squabble. "What's all this about? What are you doing with Brig's hawse, Hardy? Why don't you ride your own?" "Well, these hyer nester kids and Mormons went to sleep on guard and let my top hawses pull--now I got nothin' but bronks to ride!" "Well, ride 'em, then!" commanded Henry Lee severely. "And, another thing, Mr. Atkins! Next time you've got a grievance, come to me--don't try to correct it yourself!" He regarded his former straw-boss with narrowing eyes, and Atkins roped out a bronk; but in the evening he took the first occasion to pick a quarrel with Brigham. They were gathered about the fire in the scant hour between branding and first guard, and Brigham was telling a story. As was his custom, Henry Lee had pitched his tent to one side, for he never mixed with his men; and Brig had the stage to himself. "Well, you fellers talk about gittin' lost," he was saying; "you ought to be up in that Malapai country. We had a land-sharp along--claimed to know the world by sections--and he----"