“No, but I'm goin' to kill off one. Git outa my way!” Big Medicine was transformed into a cold-eyed, iron-jawed fighting machine. He dug the spurs in, meaning to ride ahead of Miguel. But Miguel's spurs also pressed home, so that the two horses plunged as one. Big Medicine, bellowing one solitary oath, drew his right leg from the stirrup to dismount. Miguel reached out, caught him by the arm, and held him to the saddle. And, though Big Medicine was a strong man, the grip held firm and unyielding. “You must think of the outfit, you know,” said Miguel, smiling still. “There must be no shooting. Once that begins--” He shrugged his shoulders with that slight, eloquent movement, which the Happy Family had come to know so well. He was speaking to them all, as they crowded up to the scuffle. “The man who feels the trigger-itch had better throw his gun away,” he advised coolly. “I know, boys. I've seen these things start before. All hell can't stop you, once you begin to shoot. Put it up, Bud, or give it to me.” “The man don't live that can shoot at me, by cripes, and git away with it. Not if he misses killin' me!” Big Medicine was shaking with rage; but the Native Son saw that he hesitated, nevertheless, and laughed outright. “Call him out and give him a thumping. That's good enough for a sheepherder,” he suggested as a substitute. Perhaps because the Native Son so seldom offered advice, and, because of his cool courage in interfering with Big Medicine at such a time, Bud's jaw relaxed and his pale eyes became more human in their expression. He even permitted Miguel to remove the big, wicked Colt from his hand, and slide it into his own pocket; whereat the Happy Family gasped with astonishment. Not even Pink would have dreamed of attempting such a thing. “Well he's got to come out and take a lickin', anyway,” shouted Big Medicine vengefully, and rode close enough to slap the canvas smartly with his quirt. By all the gods he knew by name he called upon the offender to come forth, while the others drew up in a rude half-circle to await developments. Heavy silence was the reply he got. It was as though the men within were sitting tense and watchful, like cougars crouched for a spring, with claws unsheathed and muscles quivering. “You better come out,” called Andy sharply, after they had waited a decent interval. “We didn't come here hunting trouble; we want to know where you're headed for with these sheep. The fellow that cut loose with the gun--” “Aw, don't talk so purty! I'm gitting almighty tired, just setting here lettin' m' legs hang down. Git your ropes, boys!” With one sweeping gesture of his arm Big Medicine made plain his meaning as he rode a few paces away, his fingers fumbling with the string that held his rope. “I'm goin' to have a look at 'em, anyway,” he grinned. “I sure do hate to see men act so bashful.”