t was me trying to throw you through the wall," said the sheriff,
wishing to give Bucknell no greater cause for animosity against The
Orphan, and for the peace of the community; and also because he wished to
help The Orphan to refrain from using his gun in the future. "And I'd
'a' done it, too, only my hand was sweaty. Will you do what I said?" he
asked.

Bucknell straightened up and staggered past the sheriff to where The
Orphan stood: "You done that, but it's all right, ain't it?" he asked.
"You ain't sore, are you?" His eyes had a crafty look, but the dimness
of the room concealed it, and The Orphan did not notice the look.

"It's all right, Bucknell, and I ain't sore," he replied. "I won't be sore
if you do what the sheriff wants you to."

"All right, all right," replied Bucknell. "Have a drink on me, boys. It's
all right now, ain't it? Have a drink on me."

"No more drinking to-day," quickly said the bartender at a look from
Shields. "All the good stuff is used up and the rest ain't fit for dogs,
let alone my friends. Wait 'til next time, when I'll have some new."

"That's too d----d bad," replied Bucknell, leering at the crowd. "Have a
smoke, then. Come on, have a smoke with me."

"We shore will, Bucknell," responded Shields quickly.

As the cowboy started for the door the sheriff placed a hand on his
shoulder: "You behave yourself, Bucknell," he said. "So long."

CHAPTER XVII

THE FEAST

Joyous whoops, loud and heartfelt, brought the women to the door of the
sheriff's house in time to see their guests dismount. A perfect babel of
words greeted their appearance as the cowboys burst into a running fire
of jokes, salutations and comments. Even the ponies seemed to know that
something important and unusual was taking place, for they cavorted
and bit and squealed to prove that they were in accord with the spirit of
their riders and that thirty miles in less than three hours had not
subdued them. Bright colors prevailed, for the neck-kerchiefs in most
cases were new and yet showed the original folding creases, while new,
clean thongs of rawhide and glittering bits of metal flashed back the
sunlight. Spurs glittered and the clean looking horses appeared to have
had a dip in the Limping Water. Blake had hunted through the carpeted
rooms of his ranch-house for decorations, and in the drawer of a table
he had found a bunch of ribbons of many kinds and shades. These now
fluttered from the pommels of the s