"He got so used to skinnin' buffalers that he's itchin' to try it on a human," said another. "I says he shows spunk, pickin' Wolf to try it on." "There's tricks in all trades," said Jim Hands. "'Cept freightin'," laughed Jerry. "Somebody pass in a knife," requested Brazos. "Mine's in my other pants where it allus is when I wants it. My sacred cow! I'm near choked! Them hides must be full of maggots." Receiving the knife he soon backed out. "Phew! An' hot! Now, as I pull him out, some of you grab holt under him so he won't drop. Don't try to stand him up; he can't do that for all th' money in th' country. Here he comes; stand by!" Ready hands went under the puncher as he appeared, and lowered him to the ground. Wolf could not speak; he could not even move his jaw; but there was nothing the matter with his eyes and they served as points of concentration for his rage. They almost sparked. "Jerry, get a bottle of liquor," ordered Brazos. "Get it sudden, too. Reb, you an' some of th' others rub his arms an' laigs. He ain't nowhere near goin' to die, but he's in bad shape, temporary." Jerry appeared with a bottle of brandy and Brazos poured a thin trickle of it into the open mouth. When a fourth of it was used he started to rub the jaw muscles, whereat the eyes sparked furiously and the gurgling became more emphatic. "He says he likes that," chuckled the marshal, "but he likes this better," and he gave another dose of brandy. "You can't kill these fellers," he remarked, rubbing the jaws with rhythmic strokes. "They're steel, rubber, an' rawhide--tough as hickory knots. In administerin' a stimulant"--he paused, liked the words, and repeated them: "In administerin' a stimulant, as I says before, you got to consider what effect it will have on a liquor-drinkin' patient. This here feller looks like he was used to it, so we'll give him all six chambers. There ain't no harm in gettin' a man drunk, not if it's good for him, an' if I was him I'd ruther be drunk than sober when th' blood starts a-flowin' ag'in. Dose Number Three--it's fetchin' him; an' he ain't coughed once. Didn't I tell you he was brought up on it?" Buffalo, holding back his laughter with all his will, shook his fist at the prostrate puncher.