"Well, that's some horseback sense," grunted Big-foot. "I never built up against that idee before, but I reckon it's right. We don't need 'em much either, except to frighten the cows with when they start on a stampede, and——"
"It doesn't seem to stop them," retorted Tad, with a little malicious smile. "It strikes me that a boy without a gun can stop a runaway herd about as quickly as can a cowboy with one."
"Right again, my little pardner. Scored a bull's-eye that time. I guess Big-foot Sanders hasn't any call to be arguing with you."
"We were talking about spooks," the boy reminded him. "I am anxious to see that church. I've wanted to see one all my life——"
"What? A church?"
"No; a spook."
"Oh! Can't promise to show you nothing of the sort. But I'll agree to stack you up against a run of hard luck that will make you wobbly on your legs."
"That will be nothing new, Big-foot. I've had that already."
"Sure thing. That's the beginning of the trouble. As I was saying before, we don't need the guns for any other reason unless it's against cattle rustlers. Sometimes they steal cattle these days, but not so much as they did in the early days of the cattle business."
"Think we will meet any rustlers?" asked Tad, with sudden interest.