"Well, I'll take the bull to the corral and come back here for grub if Douglas will fix it up. We will put plenty of whiskey and hot coffee in you, Charleton. Do you think you can get home, while Doug and I ride herd?" "I sure can! Go ahead, Scott. You'd better blind the bull." Scott nodded, and picking up several handsful of dry dirt, he threw them into the bull's wide, bloodshot eyes. The animal snorted and tossed his head. Scott continued with handful after handful until the bull's eyes were only muddy blanks under his tossing forehead. His bellowing ceased. Then Scott removed the ropes from his hind legs and, mounting, led him away. The bull was silent and entirely occupied in attempting to rub the dirt out of his streaming eyes. "Make it as quick as you can, Scott," called Charleton. Then to Douglas, "Get busy with the whiskey and coffee, Doug. He ought to be back by the time you've fixed up a snack." But Scott was long in returning. "Oughtn't he to be back?" asked Doug, when the bacon was ready. Charleton looked at his watch. "He's been gone over an hour. After you eat, you go see what kind of trouble he's in, Doug." Douglas devoured the bacon and bread, then mounted and rode slowly through the silent, scented forest. His blue eyes danced with excitement, his tanned cheeks burned as he guided the Moose through the quivering aspens to the corral. Here he pulled up with a sudden oath. The corral was empty, the fence torn open in half a dozen places. "That blankety-blank old bull must have started a stampede!" gasped Douglas. "I wouldn't have thought Scott would have left him free in here!" He rode through and around the corral. Cattle tracks led in every direction. He trotted in widening circles. Perhaps a mile north of the corral, he pulled up and looked closely at the ground. Single cattle tracks here converged and a herd track led on northward. As he stared at it, the bull came thundering down the trail. Doug put the Moose after him but had not followed him for five minutes when Scott broke into the chase from the right. "What do you think you've done, blank you?" he shouted. "What have you done with the rest of the herd?" "Done with the herd?" roared Douglas. "What are you talking about?" "I know you, you dogy rider, you! I told you that wild horse of yours would gum the game. There ain't a steer left! What do you mean by riding him into the corral?" "You're drunk!" retorted Douglas. "You'd better ride after that bull or Charleton will pull a gun on you." "Ride after nothing! Chase him yourself!" "On second thoughts, I think I will. It's your turn to play nurse. Go on back and tell Charleton what's happened." "Don't get fresh, young fellow!" snarled Scott. Douglas pushed back his hat and the noon sun glimmered through the pines on his yellow hair. His clear blue eyes studied Scott appraisingly. Finally, he said, "I guess, on third thoughts, I'll take you back to Charleton." Scott laughed. "Now you're drunk!"