"Aimin' to start a herd up th' trail?"
"I don't just know what dickerin' there may come out of this," answered the round-up boss. "He says for me to take some of th' boys an' round up over here. There's no tellin' what he may do. I know that I can report that there's quite some four-year-olds, an' a few three-year-olds. Where th' devil th' cattle under four years old are keepin' themselves I don't know. But if he's aimin' to throw in a herd for Arnold an' send 'em up th' trail with some of ours they'll be numerous enough to make a showin'. He may be gettin' sweet on this ranch, because of them Snake Buttes thieves. If he is, I reckon Arnold wouldn't turn down a fair cash offer for grazin' a couple of herds over here through th' fall an' winter. He's got room for three times th' number feedin' here now."
"There ain't no doubt about that," answered Big Tom. "When are you aimin' to round up for strays on our north end?"
"Why, there can't be many over there," replied Cimarron. "Th' natural barriers would keep 'em back. Have you noticed any?"
"Nary a one; but if you want to make shore, I'll lend you a couple of th' boys, 'though I'm shore gettin' short of men."
"If you say you ain't seen none, that's good enough for me until th' spring round-up, anyhow; an' then we can start combin' at the same time, if we do th' work for th' SV, of course."
"What's Arnold askin' for th' SV, lock, stock, an' barrel?" bluntly asked Big Tom.
"Don't know," answered Cimarron, surprised. "I don't reckon Lin would consider buyin' it, 'less, mebby, he could sell th' Double X. But what's th' use of you an' me talkin' about that? I don't know nothin' except orders, an' th' only orders I got was to run this round-up an' get back as soon as I can. I'll be leavin' you now, for I'm workin' harder than any man here, which shore is sayin' somethin'."
"An' I got to be ridin' on," said the Bar H foreman, and he made the words good. Reaching the Doc's shack, he dismounted and went inside, where he remained for nearly an hour, came out, glanced at the bullet holes and then went on to town, where he found the saloon deserted except for the proprietor.
Dave looked up and let his hand rest on the cap-and-ball under the bar, said cap-and-ball being .44 caliber, with the annoying habit of often sending one through the barrel, and igniting the caps on the nearest chambers and sending their contents along each side of the barrel with roving commissions.