Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn, and dismounted. “Get off your horse and take the damnedest licking you ever had in your life, for that!” He invited vengefully. “You told me to tie down that steer, and I tied him down. You've got no call to complain—and there isn't a man on earth I'll take that kinda talk from. Crawl down, you parrot-faced cow-eater—and leave your gun on the saddle.”
The man remained where he was and looked Bud over uncertainly. “Who are you, and where'd yuh come from?” he demanded more calmly. “I never saw yuh before.”
“Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!” Bud snapped. “If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You called me something! Get off that horse or I'll pull you off!”
“Aw, yuh don't want to mind—” began a tall, lean man pacifically; but he of the high nose stopped him with a wave of the hand, his eyes still measuring the face, the form and the fighting spirit of one Bud Birnie, standing with his coat off, quivering with rage.
“I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow—I DID holler 'Tie 'im down.' But if you'd ever been around this outfit any you 'd have known I didn't mean it literal.” He stopped and suddenly he laughed. “I've been yellin' 'Tie 'im down' for two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the bunch, and nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. It's just a sayin' we've got, young man. We—”
“What about the name you called me?” Bud was still advancing slowly, not much appeased by the explanation. “I don't give a darn about the steer. You said tie him, and he's tied. But when you call me—”
“My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick my words.” He eyed Bud sharply. “You're mighty quick to obey orders,” He added tentatively.
“I was brought up to do as I'm told,” Bud retorted stiffly. “Any objections to make?”
“Not one in the world. Wish there was more like yuh. You ain't been in these parts long?” His tone made a question of the statement.
“Not right here.” Bud had no reason save his temper for not giving more explicit information, but Bart Nelson—as Bud knew him afterwards—continued to study him as if he suspected a blotched past.