"He was made a muley by a saw," replied Slim. "That feller was a bloody-minded terror. He's cost this ranch a dozen times what he was ever worth. We don't know what was th' matter with him--just born savage, I reckon. He killed an' ruined a lot of young steers before we got onto him. At first we was goin' to kill him; then we said he had been so all-fired mean that he ought to be punished. So we sawed off his horns an' turned him loose to play with th' rest of th' long-horns. He got some good lickin's before he learned that he wasn't dangerous no more. He got mauled so much before he quit his mean ways that we sort of felt sorry for him. Here comes Quantrell. He's our _segundo_, an' boss of our trail outfit. Good man, all around. Hey! Look at that old reprobate go for him! What do you think of that? Cimarron was th' man who sawed off his horns, an' cussed if he don't remember it!" The approaching rider evaded the charge, fired close to the steer's nose as the animal went past, which turned its chain of thought, and rode up laughing. "Did you see th' old boy?" he chuckled. "Reg'lar friend of yourn," laughed Slim. "Here, shake han's with Nelson. He's comin' out to show us how to play draw--an' his pockets are full of money." "Yo're welcome," said Cimarron, grinning, his hand-clasp solid and sincere. "Better put yore rope on him, Slim, in case he gets scared off." Laughing and chatting they rode westward until about mid-afternoon when, hungry as wolves, they arrived at the bunkhouse, where Cimarron dared the sanctity of the cook shack to rustle warm, if rather dried-out food, from the back of the stove; and they ate to the frank and personal comments of several loafing onlookers. The rest of the afternoon was passed in discussions and reminiscences of things concerning range activities and in telling stories about men they had known. It was not long before other men began to come in from the range and the cook showed signs of activity. When he was ready he let out a yell: "Are you all a-comin'?" They were, and ate hungrily, for the most part in silence, listening to the three who had enjoyed a late dinner and who could take time to talk. Four men soon arose and exchanged banter as they looked to tobacco, guns, and other things requiring their attention and, saying good-by, went out to the corral. They had the first night shift on the west section and soon were riding away. Hardly two hours later another four-man group came in, fell upon the second meal the cook had prepared in less than three hours, and then loafed, joining in the conversation. "How's things over Gunsight way?" Cimarron asked Johnny. "Just th' same, I reckon," came the answer. "Everything is all right, a cussed sight better than they are further east. It's a shame, too; a cussed shame."