Jimmy, enraged, sprang forward to grab at his gun, but Longhorn, dexterously tripping him, leaned against the wall and grinned evilly as the angry youth scrambled to his feet. "Easy, Kid," remarked the gun-man, a Colt swinging carelessly in his hand. "You ’ll get as you give," he grunted. "Mind yore own affairs an’ work, an’ we ’ll treat you right. Otherwise—" the shrugging shoulders made further explanations unnecessary. Jimmy looked from one to the other and silently wheeled, gained the decrepit horse and rode out to his allotted range, where he saturated the air with impotent profanity. Chancing to look back he saw a steer wheel and face the south; and at other times during the day he saw that repeated by other cattle—nor was this the only signs of trailing. Having nothing to do but ride and observe the cattle, which showed no desire to stray beyond the range allotted to them, he observed very thoroughly; and when he rode back to the bunkhouse that night he had deciphered the original brand on his cows and also the foundation for that worn by Brazo Charley’s herd on the section next to him. "I dunno where mine come from, but Charley’s uster belong to th’ C I, over near Sagebrush basin. That’s a good hundred miles from here, too. Just wait till I get a gun! Trip me an’ steal my guns, huh? If I had a good cayuse I ’d have that C I bunch over here right quick! I reckon they ’d like to see this herd." When he reached the bunkhouse all traces of his anger had disappeared and he ate hungrily during the silent meal. When Longhorn and Brazo pushed away from the table Jimmy followed suit and talked pleasantly of things common to cowmen, until the two picked up their saddles and rifles and departed in the direction of the corral, the Boss staying with Jimmy and effectually blocking the door. But he could not block Jimmy’s hearing so easily and when the faint sound of hoofbeats rolled past the bunkhouse Jimmy knew that there were more than two men doing the riding. He concluded the number to be five, and perhaps six; but his face gave no indication of his mind’s occupation. "Play crib?" abruptly demanded the Boss, taking a well-worn deck of cards from a shelf. Jimmy nodded and the game was soon going on. "Seventeen," grunted the Boss, pegging slowly. "Pair of fools, they are," he growled. "Both plumb stuck on one gal an’ they go courtin’ together. She reminds _me_ of a slab of bacon, she ’s that homely." Jimmy laughed at the obvious lie. "Well, a gal’s a gal out here," he replied. "Twenty for a pair," he remarked. He wondered, as he pegged, if it was necessary to take along an escort when one went courting on the Tortilla. The idea of Brazo and Longhorn tolerating any rival or any company when courting struck him as ludicrous. "An’ which is goin’ to win out, do you reckon?" "Longhorn—he ’s bad; an’ a better gun-man. Twenty-three for six. Got th’ other tray?" anxiously grinned the Boss.