Dirty swallowed hard and nodded. Speech was beyond him just then and perhaps he had spoken too much, already. He repeated his former contortion with equal skill and success, and every head in the crowd rose perceptibly and returned to its former level as the gun spoke again and another hole appeared in the wall, close to the first. "A period comes after that, Dirty," said Dave. "Don’t you never forgit th’ kind o’ gal she was—an’ then comes th’ period. You ’ll mebby hold yore liquor better." He shoved the gun back in the holster, eyed the crowd insolently for a moment, and turning his back on it, walked calmly from the room. Pop Snow climbed down from the table in haste and pushed his way through the detaining arms and the medley of questions that assailed him on his way to the door, which opened and closed like a stage trap as he stepped out and sprang to one side; his anger was that of a sober and far younger man and he peered about with keen eyes. His caution was uncalled for: Dave was splashing through the ford and Dirty watched him set out in a swift lope along the Big Moose trail. Dave had no stomach for further company that night. Dirty rubbed a pair of trembling lips as he gazed. "Black Jack!" he muttered, "Black Jack! He _warn’t_ hung, then. No, an’ he won’t never be ’less it’s fur killin’ pore ole Pop Snow. Pore ole Pop Snow," he repeated, whimpering as he hurried across the bridge toward shelter; "Jest like Dutch Onion. Dead an’ gone, pore ole Dutch. Pore ole Pop." He stopped in the middle of the trail and with a flash of his former spirit, shook his fist after the distant Dave: "Shell I?" he jeered: "shell I, then? I been yer afore you, Jack, an’ I ’ll be a-livin’ when you rot." Hoofbeats coming out of the darkness where Dave had disappeared, startled him and he scuttled away like a rabbit. CHAPTER XIV FIGHTING THE ITCH Monroe and the three men left to him after Bow-Wow had departed for Twin River and Wayback, in the company of Whitby, were too small a force to attempt the round-up, so they put in the day riding over those sections of the range farthest removed from the Hog Back, examining every cow they found. At nightfall they had the pleasure of reporting to Buck that the entire portion of the range along the Little Jill, extending from the river to the middle of the ranch, was free from infection; as a matter of fact the conclusion reached in council was that only that portion of range bounded by the Black Jack, the south line, and Blackfoot Creek needed to be cleaned up. This meant that two-thirds of the ranch was free from the itch, and the infected third contained less than a fourth of the Double Y cows.