pursuing a lean, long-legged
steer with a wide spread of horns and a gift of speed that carried him
forging past the disputants. Tom wheeled mechanically and gave chase,
leaving the Douglas wrath to wax hotter or to cool if it would. It was
a harsh accusation that Aleck Douglas had made, and that he did make
it seemed to prove that he had what he considered very good evidence
that he was right. Tom was well schooled in troubles of that kind. He
did not take the matter so indifferently as Douglas believed.

Duke and Mel Wilson, riding hard, came upon Tom just as he had roped
and thrown the steer in a shallow draw that hid them from the level
where Aleck Douglas waited.

"Hey!" Tom beckoned them close. "Old Douglas says there's a hide in
the willows this side of Squaw Butte, with the brand cut out; a
spotted yearling, and he claims it's his and he can swear to it
without the brand. I don't know a darn thing about it. Nobody does in
this outfit; I'll stake all I've got on that. But he's on the
fight--and a mule's a sheep alongside him when he's got his back up.
He left the hide where he found it. Haze this steer and ride over
there and see what there is to his talk. If you find a hide cached in
the willows, put it outa sight. We don't want any rustling scraps
started on this range; that's bad medicine always. If he can't produce
any hide, he can't start anything but talk--and talk's cheap."

A few moments later they came tearing up out of the draw, the steer
running strong, the three riders still hotly pursuing. Duke and Mel
rushed it on to the herd, and Tom dropped out of the race and came
along across to where Douglas wrath had not cooled but had smoldered
and waited for the wind of opposition to fan it to flame again.

"Well, you still mournin' over your spotty yearlin'?" Tom called. "You
must have more time than you know what to do with to-day. Us, we have
to _work_."

"If it's to the round-up ye're going, then I'll ride wi' ye, Tom
Lorrigan. I'm a fair mon and I wush na ill to my neighbors. But I
canna twiddle the thumbs whilst others fare well on Douglas beef."

"You can ride where you please; it's open range. But if you ride to
the herd I'll show you forty yearlings that I'll bet are dead ringers
for the one that you claim was killed. I never seen that hide neither,
unless maybe when the critter was using it.

"Now, I don't want any trouble with yuh, Scotty. But I tell yuh right
now I can't stand for much mo