"Lacey is my cousin," exclaimed Deuce. He turned to his friends. "We ain't goin' to have no poker tonight. This feller is goin' to entertain us with th' doin's of th' cussedest he-man outfit that ever lived under one roof. Lacey has told me just enough to get me on th' prod--an' here's a man who was one of that outfit. You can begin with that cow-skinner you fellers went to Perry's Bend after. I'm tellin' you that if you can show as that you belonged to that hair-trigger outfit there ain't nothin' Bill Dusenberry an' his friends won't do for you. What was that cow-skinner's name, an' where did he die?" "I'm glad to meet a relative of Lacey's," replied Johnny, smiling. "Lacey turned a buffalo gun loose on that gang of rustlers when they had me in Jackson's store after they had killed Edwards. As to Jerry Brown, he died in some sort of a church, or mission, or somethin' like that. He shot me in Harlan's saloon, shootin' through his coat pocket, th' skunk. Speakin' of mavericks, you fellers all know that if th' natural increase ain't branded yo're goin' to have a fine crop of unbranded cattle; an' if there ain't no calves branded for three years, yo're shore goin' to have one slashin' big herd of mavericks. Now, if them mavericks wander off th' ranch there ain't no tellin' what'll happen to 'em. An' if they ain't allowed to git back again, or ain't kept off some other ranch, somebody's goin' to have a fine lot of cattle that can be marked with any brand they feels like puttin' on 'em. They won't even have to be vent branded: they can be sold, an' th' first an' only brand they start with can be th' sign of th' man that buys 'em. With a road brand to take 'em over th' trail, there ain't nobody can question 'em, is there? At least not down in this country, where there ain't no laws to question 'em." "Yo're right!" exclaimed Slim, his eyes glowing with a sudden inspiration. "Where have our brains been all this time? Reckon we was too busy out on our west line to do much thinkin' about other things." "Yes, an' none of 'em will be much more than three years old," said Cimarron, looking around the room, where various expressions met his eye. "A plumb fine lot of unbranded cattle, runnin' up to three-year-olds, ready for any iron. I've been as dumb as a locoed dogie!" "Lin," said Gus Thompson, turning to the foreman, "I'm tellin' you that when folks get th' maverick habit, an' ain't bothered, they get so, after a while, that they don't care a whole lot _where_ them mavericks come from; an' you know that there are _some_ parts of our ranch that are plumb heavy with scrub timber, brush, an' rough ground." "Tell us about Perry's Bend," impatiently demanded Deuce.