"Shore; we wasn't so far from th' Musselshell. They're on th' trail all th' time. An' they ain't loved a whole lot, neither. Th' northern punchers try to keep their herds from grazin' too close to th' trails. They're plumb scared about Texas fever. Sometimes a trail herd will pick up quite a lot of local cattle, an' when they're cut out they're mostly held on a range by themselves over a winter, until th' danger is reckoned to be past. You can't blame 'em, for th' fever raises th' very devil in northern herds. I know what I'm talkin' about, because some fever cattle was throwed over on th' Tin-Cup by some two-laigged skunks, an' we had one busy time, _I_'ll admit. It went through our cattle like fire through dead grass; an' if it hadn't been for an Englishman, with plenty of brains in his decivin' head, it would 'a' been good-by Tin-Cup. It was a squeak for us. How's everythin' with you fellers?" "Our troubles are periodics," replied Slim. "We'll have a long stretch of peace an' quiet, an' then things will happen in bunches, an' keep us crow-hoppin' all over th' range. We got our southeast section tamed, but our west section boils over every once in a while. Even when it ain't boilin', or even simmerin', we have got to watch it close. An' it's generally on th' simmer. If you go broke a-visitin' us, which I hopes you do, you can earn quite some cash. All you got to do is to go over in th' Snake Buttes country, just west of us, an' get Nevada for us. We'll pay five hundred dollars for his body, an' a hundred apiece for each of his men. I've heard tell about th' Hole in th' Wall, up north, but I reckon we've got its first cousin down here, right next door to us. We have to keep four men on our west section day an' night. Don't you never ride out there for fun--we shoots first, an' then finds out who it was." "Nevada!" mused Johnny, "who is he?" "Some say he's white, others, a half-breed," answered Slim. "Nobody I ever met knew anythin' about him, except that he come from Nevada. While I never saw him, I shore heard an' felt his lead one night; an' if he can shoot that good in th' dark, by ear, I ain't honin' to meet him for fun an' excitement in th' daytime when he can use his eyes. He skinned my ear, put one through my arm, another cut my shoulder, one went through my hat, th' fourth grazed my side, an' th' fifth killed my cayuse. It sounded like a loud _r-i-i-i-p!_ Since then I don't make no noise at night out there. I imitates a ghost when I move around, an' I'm on full cock, with a hair trigger, every minute, which is some strain." "How'd it happen?" asked Johnny.