his afternoon."

Just how soon the chance would come, Bud had not realized. He had no
more than come within shouting distance of the herd when a big, rollicky
steer broke from the milling cattle and headed straight out past him,
running like a deer. Stopper, famed and named for his prowess with just
such cattle, wheeled in his tracks and lengthened his stride to a run.

"Tie 'im down!" someone yelled behind Bud. And "Catch 'im and tie 'im
down!" shouted another.

For answer Bud waved his hand, and reached in his pocket for his knife.
Stopper was artfully circling the steer, forcing it back toward the
herd, and in another hundred yards or so Bud must throw his loop He
sliced off a saddle-string and took it between his teeth, jerked his
rope loose, flipped open the loop as Stopper raced up alongside, dropped
the noose neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his forefeet
and braced himself for the shock. Bud's right leg was over the cantle,
all his weight on the left stirrup when the jerk came and the steer fell
with a thump. By good luck--so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and
had the steer tied before it had recovered its breath to scramble up.
He remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while he went
jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him.

If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have received a
shock. Other riders had left their posts and were edging up to hear
what happened, and Bud reined up in astonishment before the most amazing
string of unseemly epithets he had ever heard. It began with: "What'd
you throw that critter for?"--which of course is putting it mildly--and
ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to another's face and
expect anything but trouble afterwards.

Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and
dismounted. "Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever
had in your life, for that!" He invited vengefully. "You told me to
tie down that steer, and I tied him down. You've got no call to
complain--and there isn't a man on earth I'll take that kinda talk
from. Crawl down, you parrot-faced cow-eater--and leave your gun on the
saddle."

The man remained where he was and looked Bud over uncertainly. "Who are
you, and where'd yuh come from?" he demanded more calmly. "I never saw
yuh before."

"Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!" Bud snapped.
"If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You cal