t yu won't have to work
no more. An' I kin say right here thet they's more C 80 cows over here
than they's Bar-20's over there."

Shorty reached for his revolver and yelled, "Yore a liar!"

Among the cowboys in particular and the Westerners in general at that
time, the three suicidal terms, unless one was an expert in drawing
quick and shooting straight with one movement, were the words "liar,"
"coward," and "thief." Any man who was called one of these in earnest,
and he was the judge, was expected to shoot if he could and save his
life, for the words were seldom used without a gun coming with them. The
movement of Shorty's hand toward his belt before the appellation reached
him was enough for Skinny, who let go at long range--and missed.

The two reports were as one. Both urged their horses nearer and fired
again. This time Skinny's sombrero gave a sharp jerk and a hole appeared
in the crown. The third shot of Skinny's sent the horse of the other to
its knees and then over on its side. Shorty very promptly crawled behind
it and, as he did so, Skinny began a wide circle, firing at intervals as
Shorty's smoke cleared away.

Shorty had the best position for defense, as he was in a shallow coule,
but he knew that he could not leave it until his opponent had either
grown tired of the affair or had used up his ammunition. Skinny knew it,
too. Skinny also knew that he could get back to the ranch house and lay
in a supply of food and ammunition and return before Shorty could cover
the twelve miles he had to go on foot.

Finally Thompson began to head for home. He had carried the matter as
far as he could without it being murder. Too much time had elapsed now,
and, besides, it was before breakfast and he was hungry. He would go
away and settle the score at some time when they would be on equal
terms.

He rode along the line for a mile and chanced to look back. Two C 80
punchers were riding after him, and as they saw him turn and discover
them they fired at him and yelled. He rode on for some distance and
cautiously drew his rifle out of its long holster at his right leg.
Suddenly he turned around in the saddle and fired twice. One of his
pursuers fell forward on the neck of his horse, and his comrade turned
to help him. Thompson wig-wagged again and rode on, reaching the ranch
as the others were finishing their breakfast.

At the table Red Connors remarked that the tardy one had a hole in his
sombrero, and asked its o