take any of _that_ for medicine. Guess I'll ask Snake
what he knows of Pocut Pete before I make any inquiries on my own hook.
And I'll tell him he'd better bury this glass if he doesn't want to cut
his own feet, or that of the others."

"Bunks all right?" asked Old Billee Dobb, as Bud emerged from the tent.

"All ready to turn in," was the answer.

"Which I'm going to do dark an' early," declared the old cowboy. "I
have the late watch t'-night."

For it had been decided, with the coming of the additional steers from
Square M, that it would be necessary to ride herd, as so many cattle in
a bunch might engender a stampede. And at Old Billee's suggestion the
night-riding was to start then, to break them in, so to speak.

Bud saw Pocut Pete standing by himself at the cook tent, Buck Tooth
having been induced to open some cans of peaches, a form of fruit much
in favor on western ranches where the fresh variety is unobtainable.

"You'd better clean up that glass you left in the bunk tent," Bud
remarked in a low voice.

"What glass?" sharply demanded the other, and there was in his voice a
note of defiance, the boy thought.

"The glass bottle you dropped, and I stepped on," Bud resumed, for he
did not hesitate to give orders in his own camp.

"I didn't drop any bottle!" declared Pocut Pete.

"Well, some one did, and I smashed it," asserted Bud. "If you don't
want to cut your feet you'd better bury it," and he hurried off to wash
from his hands some of the unpleasant-smelling mixture that had clung
to them.

"I sleep with my boots on," said Pocut Pete. "But I'll tell the rest
of 'em to be careful."

"It would be better," Bud flung back over his shoulder.

It was late next day when cowboys from Square M arrived, slowly driving
before them the cattle that were to be doubled up with those which Bud,
Nort and Dick considered specially their own.

"What's the situation over there now?" Bud asked one of the punchers,
who looked tired and weary, for the trail had been long and dry, as
evidenced by the eager manner in which the steers rushed for water.

"Pretty bad," was the answer. "This disease, whatever it is, seems to
kill off mighty quick. I don't know how many your dad has lost, but I
guess now, what with those we've brought here and them sent to Diamond
X and Triangle B, that we'll get the best of the trouble. Gosh! You
got a nice place here!" he added admiringly.

"Yes, it's pretty good," Bud agreed.