anything more, such as the shooting of
Follansbee, occurs, we will have to go on the warpath ourselves. But I
don't want to do that. We are out here to winter feed our cattle, and
not to fight."

"Shore enuff, but yer kin bet yer breeches I'm not goin' ter let no cave
dweller or brush hider tromp onto my moccasins, an' turn ther other
cheek ter be tromped on. Ther first feller o' that outfit I cotch sashay
in' around me I'm goin' ter take a crack at him."

"Go as far as you like when it comes to an act of aggression on the part
of one of them, but don't start anything, Bud, unless you can positively
bring it to a successful end."

"I reckon I'm some of a fox myself. They ain't set no trap what I've put
my paw inter yet."

Ted and Stella rode on to Kit's camp to see how Follansbee was getting
on, and found him doing nicely, but Stella laughed at the bandages Bud
had put on the wounded cow-puncher, and insisted on redressing the
wound.

Stella was a master hand at bandaging, because she was deft of hand and
was naturally sympathetic.

When she had finished with Follansbee, and had sewed his bandages so
that he could not rub or drag them off, he said he felt a hundred per
cent better already.

Then they proceeded toward the mountains, where the third camp, under
the direction of Ben Tremont, was situated.

It was almost the dying of the day when they left Ben's camp. He had not
heard of the attack on Follansbee, and Ted made it an occasion to warn
Ben against the attacks of the Whipple gang, as he was in the most
exposed place, being so near the mountains.

When they turned their ponies' noses toward the south again it was to
ride through a part of the herd.

Ted noticed that the cattle were feeding well and that there was plenty
of good, rich, well-cured grass, and that it was free of snow in big
enough patches to give the cattle ample room to graze.

As they were riding along Stella drew rein.

"What's the matter with that steer over there, Ted?" she asked, pointing
to a steer that was dragging one of its hind legs.

Ted looked at the steer in question, which was moving slowly forward.

"See, there's another," cried Stella. "Why, I can see a dozen of them
all limping in the same manner."

"That's strange," said Ted. "I wouldn't think anything of it if only one
steer had gone lame, but I can't understand a dozen."

They rode slowly toward the lame steers.

"Great guns," exclaimed Ted, bending low in