"That's all right," retorted Brigham stoutly; "I reckon——"
"Well, git out of the way!" shouted the voice of Buck. "And throw down that frame so I can roast these ribs!"
That ended the controversy for the time, but before the ribs were cooked Brigham edged in another story—and he proved it by Mr. Bowles. It was a trifle improbable, perhaps, but Bowles was getting the spirit of the Great West and he vouched for it in every particular. Then when the ribs were done he cut some of the scorched meat from the bones, and ate it half-raw with a pinch of salt, for he was determined to be a true sport. Buck and Brigham devoured from one to two pounds apiece and gnawed on the bones like dogs; but Mr. Bowles was more moderate in his desires. What he really longed for was a bed or a place to sleep; but the gentleman who had coached him on cowboy life—and sold him his fancy outfit—had not mentioned the sleeping accommodations, and Bowles was too polite to inquire. So he hung around until the last story was told, and followed the gang back to the bunk-house.
Each man went to his big blanket roll and spread it out for the night without a single glance at the suppliant, for a cowboy hates to share his bed; but as they were taking off their boots Brigham Clark spoke up.
"Ain't you got no bed, stranger?" he inquired; and when Bowles shook his head he looked at Hardy Atkins, who as bronco-twister and top-hand held the job of straw-boss. A silence fell and Bowles glanced about uneasily.
"There's a bed over there in the saddle-room," observed Atkins, with a peculiar smile.
A startled look went around the room, and then Buck came in on the play.
"Yes," he said, "that feller ain't here now."
"Oh, thank you," began Bowles, starting toward it; but he was halted in his tracks by a savage oath from Brigham.
"Here!" he ordered. "You come and sleep with me—that's Dunbar's bed!"