"Tell us about Perry's Bend," impatiently demanded Deuce.
"Tell us about yore gran'mother's cat!" snorted Bill Sage. "That can wait: Nelson's goin' to stay here a couple of nights, anyhow." He looked around. "I'm beginnin' to see through th' holes in th' ladder; an' I'm honin' to listen to why th' SV don't show no mavericks, when it ain't had a spring round-up for three years. Does it sleeper?"
"Not an earnotch," interjected Tom Wilkes. "You ought to know that, you flathead; you've seen enough SV cattle, anyhow."
"Mebby Nelson can explain it," suggested the foreman.
"I'm willin' to talk it over, anyhow," said Johnny. "In th' first place, there's natural enemies."
"Then you can leave 'em in th' first place," laughed Slim. "There ain't none, that I knows of, down here."
"Well, then, there's them quicksands," continued Johnny, gravely. "Cattle are plumb fascinated by quicksands——"
"Huh!" snorted Cimarron, "you ain't figgerin' them sands are takin' th' increase of three whole years, are you?"
"Or pickin' mavericks, as a choice?" grunted Matt Webb.