"Belle wallops 'em like brandin' calves," Tom used to chuckle. "They beller a plenty while it's going on, and kick up their heels when it's all over. I wish't my dad had licked me like that when I was a kid. You can gamble, when I was thrashed, I knowed it!" Duke grew up to be a very good cowpuncher, however. He knew every draw and dry wash, every creek bottom and every canyon on the Black Rim range; knew almost as well as the owner how many cattle carried every brand. In the Devil's Tooth round-ups Duke held his place alongside Al as a top hand,--disputing now and then the right of young Lance to compete with him, but never quite daring to bring his dispute to the point where action would take the place of words. "Duke's sure enough a bad man--with his face," Tom once snarled to Belle. "Make it a talking match, and Duke could lick any old woman, in the Black Rim country." "There's been enough fighting Lorrigans, don't you think?" Belle smiled back at him. "Duke's dad can fight hard enough for the whole family. I didn't think you wanted your boys to be fighters." "I don't. But I sure do want 'em to have the fightin' stuff in 'em, whether it ever comes out or not. Take Lance, there. Lance ain't a fighter, either; but by the Lord John, it's there! Once get Lance started, and I'd back him against any three men in the Black Rim. It's in him, if the play ever come up. And it's in Al. The Lorrigan is strong in Al. But that Duke--" "Honey, I think maybe it's the Delavan in Duke. I remember an old maid aunt of mine that used to bolt the door and quarrel with my mother through the keyhole. I guess maybe Duke has got a little touch of Aunt Jane." "Oh, sure! First I ever heard of Aunt Jane, Belle. Takes you to think up a reason." "And the Lorrigan will come out, honey. He's got the look, now and then. It's in him, you'll see."