Irish, "after the deal they got last
night. I'd have bet good money that you couldn't drag them herders
across Flying U coulee with a log chain."

"Say, by golly, do we have to drive this here bunch anywheres before we
git anything to eat?" Slim wanted to know distressfully.

Weary considered briefly. "No, I guess we'll pass 'em up for the
present. An hour or so won't make much difference in the long run, and
our horses are about all in, right now--"

"So'm I, by cripes!" Big Medicine attested, grinning mirthlessly. "This
here sheep business is plumb wearin' on a man. 'Specially," he added
with a fretful note, "when you've got to handle 'em gentle. The things
I'd like to do to them Dots is all ruled outa the game, seems like.
Honest to grandma, a little gore would look better to me right now than
a Dutch picnic before the foam's all blowed off the refreshments. Lemme
kill off jest one herder, Weary?" he pleaded. "The one that took a shot
at me las' night. Purty, please!"

"If you killed one," Weary told him glumly, "you might as well make a
clean sweep and take in the whole bunch."

"Well, I won't charge nothin' extra fer that, either," Bud assured him
generously. "I'm willin' to throw in the other three--and the dawgs,
too, by cripes!" He goggled the Happy Family quizzically. "Nobody can't
say there's anything small about me. Why, down in the Coconino country
they used to set half a dozen greasers diggin' graves, by cripes, soon
as I started in to argy with a man. It was a safe bet they'd need three
or four, anyways, if old Bud cut loose oncet. Sheepherders? Why, they
jest natcherly couldn't keep enough on hand, securely, to run their
sheep. They used to order sheepherders like they did woolsacks, by
cripes! You could always tell when I was in the country, by the number
uh extra herders them sheep outfits always kep' in reserve. Honest to
grandma, I've knowed two or three outfits to club together and ship in
a carload at a time, when they heard I was headed their way. And so when
it comes to killin' off four, why that ain't skurcely enough to make it
worth m'while to dirty up m'gun!"

"Aw, I betche yuh never killed a man in your life!" Happy Jack grumbled
in his characteristic tone of disparagement; but such was his respect
for Big Medicine's prowess that he took care not to speak loud enough
to be overheard by that modest gentleman, who continued with certain
fearsome details of alleged murderous exploits of hi