erris and damn him black," retorted Shorty, opening his eyes with
a snap and letting a glance blaze into space. "Of all the
leather-skinned, mule-muscled, wrong-headed gents I ever seen he's the
outlastingest."

"You sure got your vocabulary all warmed up," observed Little Joe,
so-called because of two hundred pounds of iron-hard sinew and muscle.
Slim was wandering towards the door to execute his mission, but he kept
his head cocked towards his prostrated friend to learn as much as
possible before he left. "Which I disremember," went on Little Joe
thoughtfully, "of you ever putting so many words together without
cussing. Perris must of give you some Bible study down to Glosterville."

It brought Shorty up on one bulging elbow and he glared at Little Joe.

"Bible?" snorted Shorty. "His idea of a Bible is fifty-two cards and a
joker. He does his praying with one foot on a footrail."

"He'll sure fit in fine here," drawled Little Joe. "What with a girl for
our boss and a hired hoss-catcher, none of us being good enough to take
the job, we-all will get a mighty fine rep around these parts. You done
yourself proud bringing him up here, Shorty."

"Laugh, damn you," said Shorty, heated to such a point that he
half-forgot his exhaustion. "You ain't been through what I been through.
You ain't man enough to of lasted." The imputation sobered Little Joe and
he shrugged his massive shoulders significantly. Shorty's laugh was shrill
with contempt. "Oh, you're big enough," he sneered. "But what does beef
count agin a lightning flash?" He grew reminiscent. "I seen him bluff
down the Wyoming Kid, yesterday."

A religious silence spread in the bunkhouse. The cowpunchers sat as
stiff as though in Sunday store-clothes. Shorty took advantage of this
favoring hush.

"I find him sitting in at a game of poker and I give him the girl's
letter. He shakes it open saying: 'See that ten and raise you ten more.'
I look over his shoulder as he flips up his cards. He's got a measly
pair of deuces! Then he reads the letter and hands it back to me. 'Is it
as bad as all that?' he says. 'See that other five and raise you
twenty.' 'You're too strong for me Red,' says the gent that was bucking
him--and lays down to that pair of deuces! I read the letter:

"'Dear Mr. Perris,

"'I know you don't like to hire out. But this is a job where you won't
have a boss. The chestnut horse that nearly killed Manuel Cordova--
Alcatraz--has come to my ranch and