“Can’t I?” The owner of the 77 repeated. “Look at that horse. In a lather already! See how he’s marked up. The man’s a--hum!--he’s too rough. I’ll not have my horses foundered, or their tempers ruined. Let the man learn to handle horses; then if he wishes to come back. I’ll consider him. How much do we owe him?” “But great Scott, Mr. Bunyan!” Tex writhed with honest anguish. “The hawss aint hurt. His hair’s scurcely mussed. You can’t set a man afoot for that! A hawss has got to be _ridden_, else he aint any good in the herd. I wouldn’t waste time with a plumb mean hawss--haven’t much use for a buster, anyhow. And if I caught a man mistreating an animal regardless, I’d be the fust to fire him. Old Thunder aint been mistreated. He’s just nacherly a trifle gay when he’s fust forked. He does it a-purpose; he _expects_ to be tapered off like Laramie tapered him--wants somebody to come right back at him, and then he’s peaceful. That hawss is ready to go all the rest the day. He’s only one o’ them kind that’s got to be uncorked. Why, Laramie wouldn’t choose to hurt a hawss or ary other animal. But on the range a man has to ride and to rope and to brand; that’s what you pay him for, aint it? Laramie’s a cow-man--been at it twenty-five or thirty year. He knows the value of hawsses and cows as well as I do. You can’t fire him for nothing.” Mr. Bunyan pursed his lips and gave judicial answer. “I still think he should be discharged. But perhaps he was only showing off before the ladies. He’s a ladies’ man! Anyway, he’d better stay until you’ve shipped the cattle.” “I had, had I?” Laramie snorted. “Thanks. Wouldn’t care for some. I’ll leave my saddle in the wagon, Matthews, and hoof to town. I’ll go to cookin’ before I’ll ever lay hand on another Seventy-seven hawss.” “No, Laramie!” Tex pleaded. “Stay and we’ll talk this over. I need you. You _got_ to stay.” “I’m full up on talk, and I’m full up on punchin’, too,” replied Laramie. “For the information of this loco, I’ll say I was goin’ to quit anyhow. Decided that yesterday. He’s late. But I’ll finish out on yore account, Tex; then I’m done.” “Oho!” chuckled the aggravating Bunyan, out of wisdom excessive. “Pay-day; then wine, woman and song, eh?” “’Cordin’ to yore tell,” growled Laramie. He resaddled Old Thunder, brusquely mounted, and without instructions rode off on duty self-assigned. * * * * * The virtuous Mr. Bunyan returned to his party. “Did you discharge him, uncle?” one of the girls asked breathlessly. “Wouldn’t he go?” “He’ll stay till after the round-up. Was rather saucy about it. Said he was going to quit anyhow. The sooner he quits, the better.” “Independent, aye?” the younger man queried. “Oh, it’s easy come, easy go, with these cowboys. He’s probably saved his wages. No way to spend ’em, you see. So at first opportunity he’ll lay off and blow ’em all in. That’s it. Then he’ll be hunting another job. The same old story. I don’t worry.”