"All swelled up."
"Poison?"
"That's what makes them swell up. There's no disease in ther herd, what I kin diskiver. All healthy enough. But some o' them is showin' signs o' loco, an' thar ain't no loco weed on this range."
"That's mighty strange. I hadn't noticed it. What do you think of it?"
"I believe that dog Woofer is follerin' us, an' has been spreadin' poison o' some kind on ther range what either kills or makes ther steers crazy."
"If that is true, it is the most serious thing that has come our way in a long time. It wouldn't take much of that sort of work to put the whole bunch out of business and leave us with not enough cattle to pay to drive back to the road."
"That's right. We'd be in a pretty fix with the best o' our herd rottin' out here on the prairie. And about all we've got is tied up in it, too."
"What do you think is behind it?"
"Barrows, the dirty little coward of an officer back there at Fort Felton, striking back-hand blows at us through his money, by hirin' crooks and murderers to do his dirty work. There's more than one man at work at this."
"I've no doubt you're right. By Jove! I'm going to take a look at the situation myself."