t I feel that away jest about now. I've sed to myself I'd do
best settin' my head in your wash-trough. I've said it more'n oncet in
the last half-hour. But I don't guess it's any sort o' use. So--so,
I'll cut out the wash-trough."

"You most generally do," said Toby pleasantly.

"You ain't comic--'cep' when you're feedin'," retorted Sunny, nettled.
Then he turned to Minky, just as the doorway of the store was darkened
by the advent of Sandy Joyce. But he glanced back in the newcomer's
direction and nodded. Then he went on immediately with his talk.

"Say, have you seen him?" he demanded of anybody. "I'm talkin' o'
Zip," he added, for Sandy's enlightenment. "He found James. Located
his ranch, an'--an' nigh got hammered to death for his pains. Gee!"

"We see him," said Minky, after an awed pause. "But he never said a
word. He jest set Bill's mare back in the barn, an' bo't bacon, and
hit off to hum."

"I didn't see him," Sandy admitted. "How was he?"

"Battered nigh to death, I said," cried Sunny, with startling
violence. "His eyes are blackened, an' his pore mean face is cut
about, an' bruised ter'ble. His clothes is torn nigh to rags, an'--"

"Was it the James outfit did it?" inquired Minky incredulously.

"They did that surely," cried Sunny vehemently. "You ain't seen Bill,
have you? He's that mad you can't git a word out o' him. I tell you
right here somethin's goin' to happen. Somethin's got to happen," he
added, with a fresh burst of rage. "That gang needs cleanin' out. They
need shootin' up like vermin, an'--"

"You're goin' to do it?" inquired Sandy sarcastically.

Sunny turned on him in a flash.

"I'll take my share in it," he cried, "an' it'll need to be a big
share to satisfy me," he added, with such evident sincerity and fiery
determination that his companions stared at him in wonder.

"Guess Sunny's had his rest broke," observed Toby, with a grin.

"I have that sure. An'--an' it makes me mad to git busy," the loafer
declared. "Have you seen that pore feller with his face all mussed?
Gee! Say, Zip wouldn't hurt a louse; he's that gentle-natured I'd say
if ther' was only a baulky mule between him an' starvation he'd hate
to live. He ain't no more savvee than a fool cat motherin' a china
dog, but he's got the grit o' ten men. He's hunted out James with no
more thought than he'd use firin' a cracker on the 4th o' July. He
goes after him to claim his right, as calm an' foolish as a sheep in a
butche