fort it was bad enough, but
as a personal insult it was worse. One hesitates to repeat the
doggerel, even in an effort to be exact. However, the chorus, bellowed
shamelessly by Jack, was this:

"Down in the Bad-lands, hear that awful sound.
Andy Green is there a-weeping--"

Jack Bates got no further than that, for Andy first threw his plate at
Jack and then landed upon him with much force and venom, so that Jack
went backwards and waved long legs convulsively in the air, and the
Happy Family stood around and howled their appreciation of the
spectacle.

When it dawned upon them that Andy was very much in earnest, and that
his fist was landing with unpleasant frequency just where it was most
painful to receive it, they separated the two by main strength and
argued loudly for peace. But Andy was thoroughly roused and would have
none of it, and hurled at them profanity and insulting epithets, so
that more than Jack Bates looked upon him with unfriendly eyes and
said things which were not calculated to smooth roughened tempers.

"That's a-plenty, now," quelled Chip, laying detaining hand upon the
nearest, who happened to be Andy himself. "You sound like a bunch of
old women. What do you want to do the worst and quickest, Andy?--and I
don't mean killing off any of these alleged joshers, either."

Andy clicked his teeth together, swallowed hard and slowly unclenched
his hands and grinned; but the grin was not altogether a pleasant one,
and the light of battle still shone in the big, gray eyes of him.

"You're the boss," he said, "but if yuh don't like my plans you'll
just have one less to pay wages to. What I'm going to do is throw my
saddle on my private horse and ride down into the Bad-lands and see
for myself how the cards lay. Maybe it's awful funny to the rest of
yuh, but I'm takin' it kinda serious, myself, and I'm going to find
out how about it before I'm through. I can't seem to think it's a josh
when some old mark makes a play like that fellow did, and tries to put
a bullet into my carcass for riding the same trail he took. It's me
for the Bad-lands--and you can think what yuh damn' please about it."

Chip stood quite still till he was through, and eyed him sharply. "You
better take old Buck to pack your blankets and grub," he told him, in
a matter-of-fact tone. "We'll be swinging down that way in two or
three days; by next Saturday you'll find us camped at the mouth of
Jump-off Coulee, if nothing happ