Bud obeyed and in due time he came within sight of Gunsight, where a growing thirst lured him to ride in for a visit at Dave's. The proprietor still was smarting under the sting of Big Tom's attempt to bribe him and was glad to see someone who would help him get his mind on pleasant subjects. Dave regarded the story of the kidnapping of Wolf as being in that category, and when Bud left he was howling with laughter, and drove his horse toward home at a speed which awakened a resentful surprise in that animal. "Th' locoed sons-of-guns!" repeated the delighted rider at intervals. "I knowed we had some locoed sage hens under our roof, but I thought they had limits! Why th' devil wasn't _I_ in on that? _I_'m stickin' too close to home nights; but not no more. Any future Double X parties goin' to Gunsight will shore have little Buddie right in their midst! Th' nervy coyotes! Th' stem-windin' fools! Ha! Ha! Ha!" Further on he gave vent to another burst of laughter as a new thought struck him. "It's all Nelson's fault. Cuss it! _now_ I know why there has been so much hilarity about th' kidnappin' of th' Doc! They was plannin' to go it one better--an' I'm sayin' that they shore succeeded. They aimed purty high, but they done it, an' without even a scratch. I wonder who put th' sand burr under Smitty's saddle? Cuss that west section! I'm goin' to change an' ride our southeast line!" When he pulled up at the bunkhouse door he found Lin and two other men who had ridden the last trick on the west section and he delivered Cimarron's message as soon as he dismounted. Answering the foreman's few questions, he let out a whoop and unburdened his news about Wolf and Smitty, painting the word pictures in a way which did him credit, and he felt the thrill of pride of an artist in the responses he obtained. After the greater pressure of their hilarity had escaped they began the puzzle of trying to name the jokers, and their foreman did that for them. "Friday night," mused Lin. "Huh! Th' last that went to town was Slim, Tom, Gus, an' Bill. An' it was Friday night, too, because they said somethin' about hearin' Buffalo rumblin' in. That _makes_ it Friday night, an' puts 'em in town when th' wagon was there. Well, I'm d--d! I can believe it of Slim and Tom, purty near, but not Bill an' Gus; still, there ain't no tellin' what any man of this fool outfit will do after he's been in Dave's all evenin'. I'm sayin' that mebby they got a tail holt on a mean varmint; that's their business, 'though, an' they ain't helpless kids." "Mebby Wolf don't know who done it, but blames us all," suggested Rich Morgan, unconsciously resting his hand on the butt of his gun. "In which case I'm all eyes an' ears from now on."