But he gave no sign of what was in his mind. A moment or two later he paused and, leaning indolently against a tree, let his gaze sweep idly over the cattle in the near-by pasture. "Looks to me like a pretty good bunch of steers," he commented, and then added carelessly: "What sort of a guy is this Tex Lynch, anyhow?" Bud hesitated briefly, sending a swift, momentary glance toward the bunk-house. "Oh, he's all right, I guess," he answered slowly. Stratton grinned. "If you don't look out you'll be overpraising him, kid," he chuckled. Jessup shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't say I liked him," he defended. "He knows his business all right." "Oh, sure. Otherwise, I s'pose he wouldn't hold down his job. But what I want to know is the kind of boss he is. Does he treat the fellows white, or is he a sneak?" Bud's face darkened. "He treats some of 'em white enough," he snapped. "That so? Favorites, eh? I've met up with that kind before. Is he hard to get on the right side of?" "Dunno," growled the youngster. "I never tried." Buck chuckled again. "Well, kid, so long as you don't seem to think it's worth while, I dunno why I should take the trouble. Who else is on the outs with him?" Jessup flashed a startled glance at him. "How in blazes do you know--" "Oh, gosh! That's easy. That open-faced countenance of yours would give you away even if your tongue didn't. I'd say you weren't a bit in love with Lynch, or any of the rest of the bunch, either. Likely you got a good reason, an' of course it ain't any of my business; but if that stunt with the red-hot branding-iron is a sample of their playfulness, I should think you'd drift. There must be plenty of peaceful jobs open in the neighborhood." "But that's just what they want me to do," snapped Jessup hotly. "They're doin' their best to drive me----" His jaws clamped shut and a sudden suspicion flashed into his eyes, which caused Buck promptly to relinquish all hope of getting any further information from the boy. Evidently he had said the wrong thing and got the fellow's back up, though he could not imagine how. And so, when Jessup curtly proposed that they return to the bunk-house, Stratton readily acquiesced. They found the five punchers gathered around the table playing draw-poker under the light of a flaring oil lamp. McCabe extended a breezy invitation to Buck to join them, which he accepted promptly, drawing up an empty box to a space made for him between Slim and Butch Siegrist. With scarcely a glance at the group, Jessup selected a tattered magazine from a pile in one corner and sprawled out on his bunk, first lighting a small hand lamp and placing it on the floor beside him.