Doc wasn’t smart enough to be a first-class bad man, although he had aspirations in that direction, and he was too indolent to earn an honest living. So, when Red Dick, the dashing cowboy, blew into town one day and flourished a wad that would have blocked the pathway of a four-year-old steer, Doc hitched onto the tail of the curly-haired comet. There was one thing Doc could do--cook--and by means of that seldom-exercised talent he had won the favor of Red Dick. Doc’s allegiance to his employer had got him into this fuss. With Red he had flourished guns and swaggered before the sheepmen on the ranges. And one day, when the mix-up came with the Greys, Doc had closed his eyes and blazed away as Red Dick had done. When he saw the Greys down, rolling on the ground and groaning, he became panicky and would have bolted, but for Red Dick, who ordered that every sheep on the section be shot. Then the two had spent the remainder of the day in riding down and slaughtering the innocent animals. Doc was sorry, and he had no hesitation about saying so--when Red Dick was beyond hearing. The sympathies of the cattle raisers were with Red Dick, even at this early day, for they had begun to feel the increasing encroachment of the sheep herders on the range. The sheepmen backed the Greys, who had been seriously wounded in the encounter, as well as sufferers financially in the loss of three hundred sheep. The Greys were quiet, peaceable ranchers, and considered honest by those who knew them. Fighting Dan was the black sheep in the Grey family. Dan was big, and fierce, and courageous, and a gambler. He tore big holes in the atmosphere and made lots of noise, but he had never killed his man, in spite of his reputation. Dan’s favorite method was physical, unarmed violence. Two ordinary men were as boys in his grasp. He delighted in seizing a disputant at cards, to whirl the victim high above the top of his own head, which was six feet and a half above the floor. Fighting Dan had once taken possession of a saloon that had won his disfavor, and poured liquor down the proprietor’s throat until he was unconscious. Dan had then set up the drinks for everybody in sight for half a day. CHAPTER II. THE BAD MAN. The night of the opening day of the trial of Red Dick, Buffalo Bill and several of his pards struck town. With the scout were Hickok, Little Cayuse, and Skibo, the giant negro. Old Nomad was on the way, and might be expected to “lite” at any hour. The scout’s orders were direct from the secretary of the interior at Washington. The encroachments of the cattlemen and sheepmen upon the Indian reservations and various clashes with the red men were breeding discontent, and promised a serious outbreak. Buffalo Bill had been instructed, also, to quietly look into the conduct of some of the Indian agents in the Northwest. Complaints were finding their way to Washington, and the rival political party was making campaign material out of them.