"Only a very slight throbbing." "Can you locate this here throbbin'?" "Seems to be along my eyebrows." "What for of a play would it be if we-alls ropes an' ties down these throbbin's you mentions with a bandage o' sorts?" "Might try a cold-water bandage," returned Jack doubtfully, "though I'm afraid only time will cure me." "As to cold water, that's some difficult to round up, bein' most scarce as ice on this range. Why, this here ocean's as warm as new cow's milk." "How about a hot-water bandage?" put in Jim, who was listening eagerly to the cowboy's proposals. "Why, thar you euchre me again, son. We-alls can't light a camp-fire to heat a billy in this here boat; it's liable to bust the bottom out o' her." Eventually Broncho, tearing off some strips from a flannel shirt, dipped them over the side till they were well soaked, and then bound them X-fashion across Jack's eyebrows. "It's a poor hand," muttered the cowboy, "but we plays it for all it's worth." Jack was made to lie down on the blankets under the awning, and all three vied with each other to make him as comfortable as possible. The blindness made the strong man feel as helpless as a child. Jack's captaincy was over and he became a passenger in the boat, whilst Broncho took his place. The cowboy, seated in the sternsheets, talked without ceasing in the desire to keep Jack from brooding. He recalled cunningly many a mirth-provoking experience which the two had gone through together in the past, and again and again he had his audience laughing uproariously at some quaint yarn. Even Tari, who understood very little of Broncho's queer cowboy and poker slang, joined in with a will. "Do you mind how that tenderfoot Britisher downs Texas out with the U-bar outfit last fall, Jack?" The cowpuncher stopped and smiled meditatively. "Yes," he went on, addressing himself to the Kanaka, "Britishers is shore oncertain in their play a whole lot. As I daresay you-all notes, Tari, they mostly acts contrary to all idees o' wisdom, an' yet wins through on the game, an' it's a mighty difficult proposeetion to locate their play or cinch on to their system. "Jack's British an' so's Jim; but they've trailed around that wide-spread through diff'rent countries that thar ain't much o' the Old Country paint an' varnish left on 'em. It all don' get rubbed off. "I meets up with a pretty hefty mob o' Britishers, moseyin' 'round one way an' another. Some's green an' juicy, an' that tender you'd think they didn't oughter ha' left their mammy's apron-strings. But them shorthorns don' never pan out jest how you-alls imagines. They interdooces new idees into the play. It ain't all bluff, neither, an' as they accoomilates wisdom an' absorbs the many an' variegated systems in which life is played, they frequent emerges tharfrom as hard as granite and as knowin' an' crafty as a she-grizzly. "When I paws back in my mem'ry I rec'llects quite a corralful o' strange plays these here British shorthorns makes.