“I don’t doubt it—s’ far as you’re concerned, Bill Brown,” said Jim, “but that’s our critter jest the same, and I’ll jest tote ’im along ’f you’ve no objections.”
“Well, I guess not!” said Brown, laconically.
“Look here, Bill Brown,” Jim was getting hot-headedly angry, “didn’t you know Jesse Black stands trial to-morrow for rustlin’ that there very critter from the Three Bars ranch?”
“No, I didn’t,” Brown answered, shortly. “Any case?”
“I guess yes! Williston o’ the Lazy S saw this very critter on that island where Jesse Black holds out.” He proceeded to relate minutely the story to which Williston was going to swear on the morrow. “But,” he concluded, “Jesse’s goin’ to fight like hell against bein’ bound over.”
“Well, well,” said Brown, perplexedly. “But the brand, Jim, it’s not yours or Jesse’s either.”
“’Quainted with any J R ranch in these parts?” queried Jim, shrewdly. “I ain’t.”
“Well, neither am I,” confessed Brown, “but that’s not sayin’ there ain’t one somewhere. Maybe we can trace it back.”
“Shucks!” exploded Jim.
“Maybe you’re right, Jim, but I don’t propose to lose the price o’ that animal less’n I have to. You can’t blame me for that. I paid good money for it. If it’s your’n, why, of course, it’s your’n. But I want to be sure first. Sure you’d know him, Jim? How could you be so blamed sure? Your boss must range five thousand head.”