Wyatt cheerfully.

"I don't figger we'll be jumped ag'in befo' mornin'," replied Sandy. "Ef
we are, why, we'll have to start the arguments all over."

"I w'udn't be surprised," said the philosophic Wyatt, gingerly pressing
his head with his fingertips, "but what there is a gen'ral impression
'stablished by this time that you three hombres from the Three Star are
right obstinate about considerin' this yore property."

"You leavin' camp with Plimsoll in the mornin'?" Mormon asked casually.

"I heard some rumor about his hittin' the sunrise trail," said Wyatt.
"Ef he goes, I stay. I'm a li'l' fed up on Jim Plimsoll lately. He pulls
too much on his picket line to suit me. Ef he's got a yeller stripe on
his belly, I'm quittin'. Some day he's goin' to git inter a hole that'll
sure test his standard. Me, I may be a bit of a wolf, but I'm damned ef
I trail with coyotes. I'll leave my saddle. Any of you got the makin's?
I seem to have lost most everything but my clothes. I shed a gun round
here somewheres."

"You can have it when you come back fo' yore saddle, Wyatt," said Sandy.
"Where was you an' yore unknown pal goin' to repo't back to Plimsoll?"

Wyatt grinned in the lantern light.

"Ef we trailed inter his place an' made a bet on the red over to the
faro table he'd sabe everything went off fine an' dandy. He w'udn't
figger we'd show at all if it didn't come off. An' we w'udn't have."

"There was one or two mo' staked out in the brush, 'less my hearin's
gone back on me," said Sandy. "Seemed to me I heard 'em makin' their
getaway. I suppose you don't know their names, either?"

"No, sir, I sure don't. An' I don't imagine they'll be showin' up at
Plimsoll's right off. It was a win-or-lose job. Pay if it was pulled
off. Otherwise, nothin' doin'. You hombres treated me white. There's a
lot who'd have plugged me full of lead an' death. I was on yore land. Ef
you force me to walk into Plimsoll's Place ahead of you I ain't
resistin' none, an' I shall sure admire to watch Plim's face when he
sees you-all back of me."

He took the trail ahead of them, hands in his pockets, his cigarette
glowing. Behind him walked Sandy. Wyatt finished his smoke and started
to hum a tune.

"Oh, I'm wild an' woolly an' full of fleas,
I'm hard to curry below the knees.
I'm a wild he-wolf from Cripple Crick,
An' this is my night to howl.

"I ain't got a friend but my hawss an' gun,
The last kin shoot an' the f