ame thundering up. There was a
chorus of shouts and exclamations, whistlings and good-natured chaff, as
they threw themselves from their horses. Long Jim stood slowly cracking
his whip and looking down the table.

"Say, boys, I think he's fixed things up all right," he remarked. "Come on
with the grub, cookie."

Silently the man filled each dish with the stew and laid it in its place.
Then he retired to the background and the cowboys commenced their meal.
Long Jim winked at the others as he picked up a biscuit.

"Cookie, you're no good," he called out. "The stew's rotten. Here, take
this!"

He flicked the biscuit, which caught the cook on the side of the head. For
a moment the man started. With his hand upon his temple he flashed a look
of hatred towards his assailant. Long Jim laughed carelessly.

"Say, cookie," the latter went on, "where did you get them eyes? Guess
we'll have to tame you a bit."

The meal was soon over, and Jim strolled across to where the others were
saddling up. He passed his left arm through the reins of his horse and
turned once more to look at Craig.

"Say, you mind you do better to-night, young fellow. Eh!"

He stopped short with a cry of pain. The horse had suddenly started,
wrenching at the reins. Jim's arm hung helplessly down from the shoulder.

"Gee, boys, he's broken it!" he groaned. "Say, this is hell!"

He swore in agony. They all crowded around him.

"What's wrong, Jim?"

"It's broken, sure!"

"Wrong, you helpless sons of loons!" Jim yelled. "Can't any of you do
something?"

The cook suddenly pushed his way through the little crowd. He took Jim's
shoulder firmly in one hand and his arm in the other. The cowboy howled
with pain.

"Let go my arm!" he shouted. "Kill him, boys! My God, I'll make holes in
you for this!"

He snatched at his gun with his other hand and the cowboys scattered a
little. The cook stepped back, the gun flashed out, only to be suddenly
lowered. Jim looked incredulously towards his left arm, which hung no
longer helplessly by his side. He swung it backwards and forwards, and a
broad grin slowly lit up his lean, brown face. He thrust the gun in his
holster and held out his hand.

"Cookie, you're all right!" he exclaimed. "You've done the trick this
time. Say, you're a miracle!"

The cook smiled.

"Your arm was just out of joint," he remarked. "It was rather a hard pull
but it's all right now."

Jim looked around at the others.

"And to th