"Dank Gott! Sick cows ain't made vell mit ice vater und schwimmin'. Dey don't lif so long like de vater vas varm. Der shock help kill dem quick."
Murray nodded, his hand resting on his gun, and Schatz noticed it. "Gewiss, if dey vas too veak to drive in der river, it vas besser to shoot dem. But ven dey drop dey stay mit all dem parasites. Drivin' dem off de range is besser. Aber, you stopped dem de best vay you could."
Murray nodded again. "Yes, yo're right—but I was n't thinkin' of shootin' no cows," he asserted calmly. "I know all about that. But I was just a-wonderin' if I should ketch some skunk of a cow-punch drivin' itch cattle on us, an' shoot him, if he 'd drop any parasites when he fell."
"Ach Gott! Alvays you shoot, like Dave! Shoot, shoot, shoot! Vy in Himmel should you alvays grab dot gun? Brains are in your head, and besser as lead in dot Colt. Brains first, and if dey don't do it, den der gun. But alvays der gun should be last. Verstanden?"
Murray did not reply and his companion, exchanging a few terse sentences with him, waved him towards the ranch house while he followed the line towards the Little Jill.
Buck was washing for supper when Murray arrived and kept right on with his ablutions as the puncher told his tale. Murray quite expected to see some signs of its effect on the owner, but he met with surprise and looked it. Buck Peters almost made an ally when he turned, after Murray's last word. "Murray, that's good work. Prepare for hard work. Send Ned here right away," he said, quietly, no trace of emotion in his voice.
Murray went out, thinking hard. When a man could take such a blow as that one had been taken, then he was clean grit all through. To smile as Buck had done—"By G—d, he 's a man!" swore the puncher. "I can't help liking him; wish I did n't have to help throw him. And I wish he did n't trust me like he does—ah, h—l!" he growled, savagely. "He 's a range thief, after all!"
When Monroe entered the ranch house he found his employer looking out of the window in the direction of the Hog Back, but he turned at Ned's entry. "Got work ahead, Ned. Murray found some Cyclone cows dead and wobbly on th' Hog Back. Bad case of itch. He killed th' wobblers but says th' tracks show that about a dozen was in th' herd. That means eight of 'em are on our range among the cattle. Tell th' boys we start th' round-up at daylight. If we can, we 'll make this do for the spring round-up, too; if not, then th' calves 'll have to wait till we can go for 'em. Th' north range won't have no itch cows on it yet, so take th' south first. As fast as we can cut out th' cattle that are free from it, we 'll throw 'em over on th' north range. Begin in th' Hog Back country an' clean up. Drive everything out of it."
"It's d—d funny Cyclone cows swum th' Jack," commented Monroe, a black look on his face. "By G—d, let me ketch anybody at that game!"
"That's th' whole thing, Ned," and Buck smiled: "To ketch 'em. I know a man who 'd clean up th' mystery if he was here, an' was told he did n't have nothin' else to do." He smiled again quietly and turned to his supper. "But he ain't here, so what's th' use."