e can be only one conclusion. The killing and
skinning of two cows out of herds that are numbered by thousands need
not, in themselves, bring lines of worry to any foreman's brow; but
there is the sting of being cheated, the possibility of the losses going
higher unless a sharp lesson be given upon the folly of fooling with a
very keen and active buzz-saw,--and it was the determination of the
outfit of the Bar-20 to teach that lesson, and as quickly as
circumstances would permit.

It was common knowledge that there was a more or less organized band of
shiftless malcontents making its headquarters in and near Perry's Bend,
some distance up the river, and the deduction in this case was easy. The
Bar-20 cared very little about what went on at Perry's Bend--that was a
matter which concerned only the ranches near that town--so long as no
vexatious happenings sifted too far south. But they had so sifted, and
Perry's Bend, or rather the undesirable class hanging out there, was due
to receive a shock before long.

About a week after the finding of the first skinned cows, Pete Wilson
tornadoed up to the bunk house with a perforated arm. Pete was on foot,
having lost his horse at the first exchange of shots, which accounts for
the expression describing his arrival. Pete hated to walk, he hated
still more to get shot, and most of all he hated to have to admit that
his rifle-shooting was so far below par. He had seen the thief at work
and, too eager to work up close to the cattle skinner before announcing
his displeasure, had missed the first shot. When he dragged himself out
from under his deceased horse the scenery was undisturbed save for a
small cloud of dust hovering over a distant rise to the north of him.
After delivering a short and bitter monologue he struck out for the
ranch and arrived in a very hot and wrathful condition. It was
contagious, that condition, and before long the entire outfit was in
the saddle and pounding north, Pete overjoyed because his wound was so
slight as not to bar him from the chase. The shock was on the way, and
as events proved, was to be one long to linger in the minds of the
inhabitants of Perry's Bend and the surrounding range.

* * * * *

The patrons of the Oasis liked their tobacco strong. The pungent smoke
drifted in sluggish clouds along the low, black ceiling, following its
upward slant toward the east wall and away from the high bar at the
other end. T