"I'll tell him all right and give him a piece of my mind in the bargain," the doctor promised as he turned the car and shot out of the gate.
"He's not much to look at," Jeb smiled as he sat down, "but when it comes to action he's like a bundle of coiled springs. If we had him for sheriff it'd be a lot healthier around here. He's been urged to take the office but he says he has too many folks to put together now without trying to take more of them apart."
CHAPTER IX.
SUSPICIONS.
A week passed and nothing more had been seen or heard of the Hains gang. The boys insisted on being a part of the day shift and from six in the morning until six at night they were out guarding the herd. It was a free open life and they enjoyed every minute of it. Young Royce improved steadily and by the end of the week was able to sit up a part of the time.
Several hours each day, while they were on duty, the boys, under the skillful tutelage of Slim and Slats, practiced throwing the lasso, a sport which they found very fascinating.
"Yer'll shore be experts if yer keep it up much longer," Slats told them after Bob had just executed a particularly difficult throw over the head of a young bull.
"When I can throw as well as you can I'll be satisfied," Bob told him.
"What, him?" Slim had come up in time to hear Bob's remark. "Shaw, he's no good."
"Who's no good?" Slats demanded very red in the face.