The stranger threw the papers at Sylvane's feet.
"I've come to take this cow."
"Well," remarked Sylvane, "if that's all the business you have, you can go straight back where you came from."
The stranger strode toward the cow, Sylvane did likewise. They reached the rope at the same moment. There was a shout from the delighted audience of cowpunchers.
The stranger released his hold on the rope. "If you say I can't take her, I can't take her," the man grumbled. "There's too many of you. But I'll bring back men that can."
"Well, turn yourself loose," remarked Sylvane agreeably. "You'll need a lot of them."
There was another shout from the onlookers, and the stranger departed. Sylvane threw the papers into the mess-wagon.
Roosevelt did not happen to be present, and in his absence the sober counsel of "Deacon" Cummins made itself heard. The gist of it was that Sylvane had resisted an officer of the law, which was a criminal offense.
Sylvane, who was afraid of nothing that walked on two legs or on four, had a wholesome respect for that vague and ominous thing known as the Law.
"Say, I don't want to get in bad with any sheriff," he said, really worried. "What had I oughter do?"