Tex dropped the saddle he was dragging across the yard. He faced Major Howard, his lean face expressionless. The major was out of sorts that morning and when he was in such a mood he was short-spoken. In his irritation he did not notice that Tex was not in a jovial frame of mind either. “The boys tell me there’s a band of thirty wild horses down on the aspen range. I want you to take a crew up there and clean them out.” He added as an after-thought, “Use rifles and make sure none of them get away.” Tex scowled. He was dead set against shooting any sort of horse, even a scrub. “Why not round ’em up and sell ’em?” he asked. The major grunted disgustedly. He could never understand the quirks in the nature of his range boss. Tex knew the wild horses were worthless on the market. They would be tough and mean to handle, half of them never could be broken, and they would not bring ten dollars a head. To the major this was a simple matter of business. Tex did not object to raising fine cattle for slaughtering, therefore he should not object to killing a few head of worthless horses. The major spoke impatiently. “You know it would cost more to corral and handle that bunch than we could get out of them,” he snapped. “Kill them all. While I had more open range than I could use I wasn’t so particular, but I’ve just bought two big herds of whitefaces. It will take every foot of grass I own to run them.” The major noticed that Tex was not convinced. He added more quietly, “This is business, big business.” “I reckon so,” Tex answered as he reached down and caught the horn of his saddle. The major was ruffled by Tex’s reply. “If you don’t want to handle this job I’ll get another man to take charge of it.” “I’ll handle it,” Tex said grimly. Then he added almost to himself, “I thought that chestnut stud was the smartest hoss on the range. Never figured he’d trail his herd down into cow country where the boys ride regular.” “Well, he has and I want that scrub stuff killed,” the major answered. Tex dragged his saddle into the corral and whistled to his bay gelding. The bay trotted to meet him and Tex let his mouth relax into a grin as he patted the big fellow’s neck. “I reckon we’ll have to do the dirty work,” he said softly. Tex picked four men to go with him, men who could handle saddle carbines expertly. He did not want any careless shooting. The kills would have to be clean. When he explained the major’s orders to the men they growled but none of them refused to go. They all shared Tex’s dislike for the job, but they would carry out the boss’s orders. The execution crew rode away from the ranch with thirty-thirty rifles slapping under their stirrup flaps. The boys who had reported to the major had given the location of the herd. Tex did not expect to find the band where the boys had seen them, but by riding to that meadow they could pick up the trail. Thirty horses would leave plenty of tracks.