un on a couple of sheepherders,
without wasting any powder," Pink said loftily, remembering his meeting
with them a few days before.

"One thing sure--we'll make a good job of it this time," promised Irish,
and spurred after Weary, who was leading the way around the band.

The herders watched them openly and with the manner of men who are
expecting the worst to happen. Unlike the four whose camp had been laid
low the night before, these two were unarmed, as they had been from the
first; which, in Weary's opinion, was a bit of guile upon the part of
Dunk. If trouble came--trouble which it would take a jury to settle--the
fact that the sheepmen were unarmed would tell heavily in their favor;
for, while the petty meanness of range-stealing and nagging trespass may
be harder to bear than the flourishing of a gun before one's face, it
all sounds harmless enough in the telling.

Weary headed straight for the nearest herder, told him to put his dogs
to work rounding up the sheep, which were scattered over an area half
a mile across while they fed, and, when the herder, who was the
bug-killer, made no move to obey, Weary deliberately pulled his gun and
pointed at his head.

"You move," he directed with grim intent, "and don't take too much time
about it, either."

The bug-killer, an unkempt, ungainly figure, standing with his back to
the morning sun, scowled up at Weary stolidly.

"Yuh dassent shoot," he stated sourly, and did not move.

For answer, Weary pulled back the hammer; also he smiled as malignantly
as it was in his nature to do, and hoped in his heart that he looked
sufficiently terrifying to convince the man. So they faced each other in
a silent clash of wills.

Big Medicine had not been saying much on the way over, which was
unusual. Now he rode forward until he was abreast of Weary, and he
grinned down at the bug-killer in a way to distract his attention from
the gun.

"Nobody don't have to shoot, by cripes!" he bawled. "We hain't goin' to
kill yuh. We'll make yuh wisht, by cripes, we had, though, b'fore we
git through. Git to work, boys, 'n' gether up some dry grass an' sticks.
Over there in them rose-bushes you oughta find enough bresh. We'll give
him a taste uh what we was talkin' about comm' over, by cripes! I guess
he'll be willin' to drive sheep, all right, when we git through with
him. Haw-haw-haw-w-w!" He leaned forward in the saddle and ogled the
bug-killer with horrid significance.

"Git busy