“Thet ain’t nothin’,” interjected Idaho. “What’s a hoss when it comes to a scrap with a bunch of rustlers? They’re mad now, and we’ll mebby git another chance at ’em some day soon. Reckon you won’t care ’bout mixin’ in agin?”
“I reckon you have another guess coming, Idaho,” answered Hippy, grinning.
Bindloss here interrupted by declaring that the wounded Overlander must be taken to the ranch-house and put to bed. He said he would have a buckboard brought down and fetch him. Miss Briggs shook her head.
“I do not think best to have him moved tonight. If he feels better in the morning, you may do that,” she said.
“All right. You’re the doctor. I’ll have the boys fix you up comfortable and stand guard for the rest of the night so you won’t be bothered by those rustlers.”
“Bindloss, I am sorry about the pony that got shot under me. Of course I shall pay you for him,” offered Hippy.
“Pay nothing!” roared the rancher. “I owe you money for the walloping you folks give those coyotes. Here, you rough-necks! Fix these folks up with whatever they want, then spread out and ride ’round for the rest of the night, and if they get into any more trouble tonight, I’ll fire the bunch of you and get riders who can see and shoot.”
“I reckon we kin take care of our folks and do whatever is necessary,” interjected Sam.
Bindloss agreed, but said his men would be on guard just the same. Shortly after that the cowboys mounted and rode out into the valley for their night’s vigil.
A tent was erected over Hippy, and Nora insisted on sitting up to look after him, but before turning in the Overlanders went into Hippy’s tent with a cheerful word for their wounded companion.