"Why," said the cook, "this Ben done married Moffatt's sister. He sure thinks he's some gunman, too, Ben does--most as good as Steve." The boss was very thoughtful as they ate their meal. He spoke civilly to Walsh and discussed with him the condition of cattle and grass, and the water supply. He even offered Dave an extra blanket on learning that the cook had proffered the visitor a bed. During the work next day, as Lafe was dispersing his riders, he stopped to ask of Walsh: "Where do you figure you're most like to find yours, Mr. Walsh?" The nester mentioned a stretch of chaparral, and Johnson assigned him to that strip. He noted that Walsh performed his tasks indolently. Once, too, while they were working the herd, he caught a criticism of his methods that the nester was voicing to a cowboy. Lafe did not show any resentment, although the tone employed was raised purposely that he might hear, but bode his time. A couple of days passed and the boss became aware that he was being made a butt by the nester. Malcontents can be found in every outfit. So there were some in the Anvil who listened to Walsh's low-voiced talk and joined readily in the laugh. After supper on the third evening, one of the old hands told Lafe that Walsh was "knocking" him. "I know," said Johnson. "But it hurts you with the boys," the other protested. "They don't work so good. Why, to-day, when you put Walsh on day herd and he went to the spring instead, a lot of 'em laughed and joked." "Sure," said Lafe, evenly, "I know. I'm just waiting. Thanks, all the same, Mit." Unvarying civility for another day on Johnson's part; on Walsh's, a cautious expansion of his policy of weakening discipline. The next night somebody inaugurated a game of pitch on a saddle-blanket by lantern light. Although the boss had not absolutely tabooed gambling, of late he had discountenanced it among the Anvil boys on the roundup. He was about to order the game stopped, when he perceived that Walsh was one of the players. Upon that he walked over and asked to be allowed to take a hand. The game ran with varying fortune. The players praised or cursed the cards with gusto, according to their luck, as is the way with cowboys--except Johnson, who won or lost with equal imperturbability. During a pause, someone told a story. Next deal, Walsh capped it with another. Just as he reached the point, he paused suddenly to examine his cards. "And what," said Lafe, whose mind was on other things, "what did the girl do then?"