"He ain’t exactly a favorite," muttered Dawson. "He ’s a—a—an event; that’s what he is!" Carter nodded. "Yep; that’s what he is, ’though you just can’t help likin’ th’ cub, he ’s that cheerful in his devilment." Charley Logan stretched and yawned. "Didn’t hear nothin’ about no Injuns, did you? A feller rid through here yesterday an’ said they was out again." Bill nodded. "Yes; I did. An’ there ’s a lot of rumors goin’ around. They ’ve been over in th’ Crazy Butte country an’ I heard they raided through th’ Little Mountain Valley last week. Anyhow, th’ Seventh is out after ’em, in four sections." "Th’ Seventh is _a_ regiment," asserted George Bruce. "Leastawise it was when I was in it. It is th’ best in th’ Service." Dad snorted. "Listen to him! It was when he was in it! Lordy, Lordy, Lordy!" he chuckled. "There hain’t no cavalry slick enough to ketch Apaches," declared Hank, dogmatically. "Troops has too many fixin’s an’ sech. You gotta travel light an’ live without eatin’ an’ drinkin’ to ketch them Injuns; an’ then you never hardly sometimes see ’em, at that." "Lemme tell you, Mosshead, th’ Seventh can lick all th’ Injuns ever spawned!" asserted Bruce with heat. "It wiped out Black Kettle’s camp, in th’ dead of winter, too!" "That was Custer as did that," snorted Carter. "Well, he was leadin’ th’ Seventh, same as he is now!" Charley Logan shook his head. "We are talking about ketchin’ ’em, not fightin’ ’em. An’ no cavalry in th’ hull country can ketch ’Paches in _this_ country—it’s too rough. ’Paches are only scared of punchers." "Shore," asserted Carter. "Apaches laugh at troops, less ’n it’s a pitched battle, when they don’t. Cavalry chases ’em so fur an’ no farther; punchers chase ’em inter h—l, out of it an’ back again." "They shore is ’lusive," cogitated Lefty Dawson, carefully deluging a fly ten feet away and shifting his cud for another shot. "An’ I, for one, admits I ain’t hankerin’ for to chase ’em close." "Wish we could get that cub Jimmy to chase some," exclaimed Carter. "Afore he gits here," he explained, thoughtfully. "Oh, he ’s all right, Carter," spoke up Lefty. "We was all of us young and playful onct." "But we all war n’t he-devils workin’ day an’ night tryin’ to make our betters miserable!" "Oh, he ’s a good kid," remarked Dad. "I sorta hates to miss him. Anyhow, we got th’ best of him, last time." Bill finished rolling a cigarette, lit it and slowly addressed them. "Well, all I got to say is that he suits me right plumb down to th’ ground. Now, just lemme tell you somethin’ about Jimmy," and he gave them the story of Jimmy’s part in the happenings on Tortilla Range, to the great delight of his audience. "By Scott, it’s just like him!" chuckled George Bruce. "That’s shore Jimmy, all right," laughed Lefty. "What did _I_ tell you?" beamed Dad. "He ’s a heller, he is. He ’s all right!" "Then why don’t you stay an’ see him?" demanded Carter. "I gotta go on, or I would. Yessir, I would!"