INTRODUCING A PARASITE
In the northeast corner of the Cyclone ranch, not far from the Little Jill, and in a hollow, well screened by hills and timber, One-Eye sat on his horse, smoking a brown cigarette and keeping a satisfied watch over a dozen mangy-looking cattle as they grazed intermittently in a restless, nervous way. They were a pitiful-looking handful, weak, emaciated, their skins showing bald patches and scabs, and they continually licked themselves and rubbed against the trees. While they were restless, it was without snap or vim; they were spiritless and drooping, enduring patiently until death should end their misery.
One-Eye beamed upon them, his good optic glowing with satisfaction. He had gone to some trouble and risk to cut these miserable animals cut of the herd collected by the hasty round-up, and now that he was about to have them taken off his hands he sighed with deep content. To run infected cattle onto the Cyclone's non-infected northern range was very dangerous, for his foreman was direct and unhesitating in his methods. Discovery might easily mean a bullet above One-Eye's blue-red nose—and this accounts for that puncher's satisfaction. Some men will do a great deal for ten dollars.
"D—n if they ain't beauts," he chuckled. "When it comes to pickin' out th' real, high-toned wrecks, th' constant scratchers, why I reckon I 'm some strong. He says to me 'Get th' very wust, One-Eye,'—an' I shore has obeyed orders. That two-year-old tryin' to saw through that cottonwood is a prize-winner when it comes to scabs—his tail looks like a dead tree in a waste of sand, th' way th' hair 's gone. Wait till he gets rubbin' hisself through th' brush across th' river, where Peters' cows like to hang out. He 'll hang mites on every twig; an' this kind o' weather will boom things. I heard tell that Peters examined that new herd extra cautious afore he bought it—well, boxcars an' pens can hand out itch a-plenty, so he can't prove they got it from us." He pulled out a battered brass watch and gauged where the broken hands would be if they were all there to point. "He 's due in ten minutes an' he 's usually on time. Yep: here he comes now. I 'll get my ten afore I do any more work—wish I could get ten dollars as easy every day."
Dave cantered up, his eyes fastened intently on the cattle, and he laughed cynically as he turned and regarded the puncher. "Well," he grinned, "I reckon you got th' wust that could stand bein' drove. Come on; we 'll get 'em off our hands as quick as we can—I don't want to answer no questions right now. It 'll be like puttin' a match to dry grass, th' way this dozen will cut down Peters' cows."
"It shore will," replied One-Eye. "Got that ten handy?" he inquired, carelessly.
"Why, they ain't across th' river yet," replied Dave, frowning.
"They 'll get across when I gets my ten," smiled One-Eye.
"Here 's th' money!" snapped Dave, angrily, as he almost threw the gold piece at his companion. "Fust time I was ever told I could n't be trusted for ten dollars."
"Oh, I trust you, all right—on'y I worked plumb hard for that coin, an' I want to feel it, like. Come on—take th' south side—I 'll handle th' rest."