"Gee! I wisht it was that," groaned Bronco, as he dropped astride a chair with his arms draped over the back.
"Any of you killed any one?" the voice was more serious now.
"Nope! It's our funeral this time," squeaked Roarer's falsetto.
Traynor twisted about and looked apprehensively at them all. "Great guns! You haven't all gone and gotten married, have you?"
"It's worser'n that," Holy's sepulchral accents boomed, "This yer damn fool outfit has been an' busted up a weddin'! That's all we done this time!"
The worst was over. The men relaxed and waited the effect of their news.
"Well, go ahead. Tell the rest," ordered Traynor curtly, with knit eyebrows.
Interspersed with interruptions, interjections and gestures, the three managed to acquaint the Boss with the situation. When their story ended, he said very sternly, "You boys know that I am always ready to stand by you, but I gave you all fair warning when I hired you, that if you got into any trouble or mix-up with a woman, it would mean your time. I certainly never anticipated such a scrape as this. I'm disgusted with you all!"
"We knowed that before you said it," Bronco agreed meekly, "but what we want to make plain is—we don't want Limber to get any blame for what we done. He wasn't in town when we busted loose. But Limber's liable to tell you jest as if he was right thar hisself."
"You say the woman is looking for ranch work?"