Jerked off his feet, his arms imprisoned at his sides, the dog beater slid, rolled, and bumped along the ground, at first too startled to protest. Then his voice arose in a stream of blasphemous inquiry, finishing with a petition. Tex rode along without a backward glance, deeply engrossed by some interesting problem and nearly had reached Carney’s saloon before he became conscious of his surroundings. A miner, cursing, leaped to the roan’s head and checked her, shouting profanely at the rider. Tex checked the horse, looked curiously down at the protestor and then, sensing the burden of the other’s remarks and becoming aware of the maledictions behind him, turned languidly in the saddle and looked back in time to see a dust-covered figure stagger to its feet and throw off the slackened rope. "Hey!" shouted Tex indignantly. "What you doin’ with my rope? Think it’s worth th’ price of a few drinks, eh? You drop it, _pronto_! An’ as for you, my Christian friend," he said to the man at the roan’s head, "if you ever grab my cayuse like that again me an’ you are shore goin’ to have an impolite little party all to ourselves. Drop that hackamore." "You was killin’ that man!" yelled the miner, loosening his hold and showing fight. "Well, what of it?" demanded Tex. "Any man that chains up a dog an’ then beats it like he was, ain’t got no right to live. If I don’t kill him, somebody else will. What you raisin’ all th’ hellabaloo about?" "I reckon you ain’t far from wrong," said the other, by this time fully aware of the identity of the dog beater. "I’m nat’rally for law an’ order. Whiskey Jim ain’t no good, I’m admittin’!" "If yo’re for law an’ order you must be lonesome associatin’ all by yoreself in this squaw town," replied Tex, grinning, but not for one moment losing sight of Whiskey Jim, who at that moment was stooping to pick up a stone lying against the corner of a building. Tex sent a shot over his head and the incident was closed. "What do you do for company?" "I ain’t hankerin’ for none," answered the miner, smiling grimly. "I only come in for supplies, an’ don’t stay long. You a stranger here?" "That’s unkind; but, seein’ as how I ain’t as much a stranger now as I was when I come, I won’t hold it ag’in’ you. Mebby I am gettin’ to look like I belonged here." He laughed. "I don’t know very many, but everybody knows me. They point with pride when they see me comin’; an’ cock their guns behind their backs with their other hand. Where you located, friend?" "Second fork on Buffaler Crick, th’ first crick west of town. Quickest way is to foller th’ track. Be glad to see you any time. Mine’s th’ shack above Jake’s." "I envy you," replied Tex. "See much of our mutual friend?" "Only when he wants to borry somethin’," grinned the other. "I see you got th’ pick of Williams’ animals under yore saddle." "I was lucky pickin’, I admits," beamed Tex. "Nice feller, Williams."