had recovered his composure.
He lay on the bunk, face to the wall, and pretended to be asleep.

-----

[2] The lard in the White River country was all made in those days of
bear grease and deer tallow mixed.

CHAPTER XX

"THE BIGGER THE HAT THE SMALLER THE HERD"

Combing Crooked Wash that afternoon Bob rode with a heavy and despondent
heart. It was with him while he and Dud jogged back to the ranch in the
darkness. He had failed again. Another man had trodden down the fears to
which he had afterward lightly confessed and had carried off the
situation with a high hand. His admiration put Hollister on a pedestal.
How had the blond puncher contrived to summon that reserve of audacity
which had so captivated the Utes? Why was it that of two men one had
stamina to go through regardless of the strain while another went to
pieces and made a spectacle of himself?

Bob noticed that both in his report to Harshaw and later in the story he
told at the Slash Lazy D bunkhouse, Dud shielded him completely. He gave
not even a hint that Dillon had weakened under pressure. The boy was
grateful beyond words, even while he was ashamed that he needed
protection.

At the bunkhouse Dud's story was a great success. He had a knack of
drawling out his climaxes with humorous effect.

"An' when I laid that red-hot skillet on the nearest area of
Rumpty-Tumpty's geography he ce'tainly went up into the roof like he'd
been fired out of a rocket. When he lit--gentlemen, when he lit he was
the most restless Ute in western Colorado. He milled around the corral
considerable. I got a kinda notion he'd sorta soured on the funny-boy
business. Anyhow, he didn't cotton to my style o' humor. Different with
old Colorow an' the others. They liked to 'a' hollered their fool haids
off at the gent I'd put the new Slash Lazy D brand on. Then they did one
o' them 'Wow-wow-wow' dances round Rumpty-Tumpty, who was still smokin'
like he'd set fire to the cabin."

Cowpunchers are a paradox. They have the wisdom of the ages, yet they are
only grown-up children. Now they filled the night with mirth. Hawks lay
down on his bunk and kicked his feet into the air joyfully. Reeves fell
upon Dud and beat him with profane gayety. Big Bill waltzed him over the
floor, regardless of his good-humored protest.

"Tell us some more, Dud," demanded the cook. "Did yore friend Rumpty put
hisse'f out by sittin' in a snowbank?"

"I don't rightly recollect. Me 'n'