"They'd be so full of bones if they got three years' calves," said Bud, "that you could build a shack on 'em, an' never feel a quiver."
"Well, then, there's th' freezin' cold an' th' ice on th' grass," suggested Johnny, grinning. "We all know that cattle ain't got sense enough to paw through ice to get at th' grass under it."
"Shore!" snorted Slim. "Did we have a freeze-up last winter?" he asked the crowd.
"Not so no cows was killed," replied Cimarron. "An' I didn't see no driftin' herds at all."
"What's th' matter with you fellers?" indignantly demanded Johnny. "Here I'm tryin' to explain a mystery, an' you keep pullin' me out of th' saddle as fast as I climb up. That ain't fair. Then how about this one: Th' SV wasn't no good for winter range, bein' all et off?"
"Yo're down again," laughed Art French. "Th' SV is good winter range, an' summer, too."
"An' spring an' fall, an' th' Fourth of July, as well as Christmas," supplemented Bud.
"You fellers are shore ornery," complained Johnny. "Then mebby th' mavericks, bein' different than marked animals, all got th' travel itch an' left that arid valley for th' thick, green grass down south of 'em, or for th' juicy scrub an' clean rocks north of 'em."
"'Arid valley' is purty near as good as 'thick, green grass south of 'em,'" chuckled Cimarron. "Was you ever over on that luxuriant south range?" he asked, ironically.
"I wasn't, but Ol' Buffalo was," answered Johnny.