"Did she give yer a scented hanky to wear nex' yore heart, ole hoss?" enquired General confidentially.
"Or a kiss on the forehead an' promise to be a sister to yo?" put in Alkali sympathetically.
"Oh, you fellers ain't familiar with the symptoms," said Muck. "Dakota's planned ter 'lope, an' he ain't got his checks cashed."
"G—! I wish I had," muttered Dakota, with sudden fervour. "I'll shore be devilish glad when we get this bunch offen our hands and the equiv in our jeans. I got a spooky feeling about the whole biz. It's a big bunch to get down across the railway and over fifty miles more to the border. And it'll be a deuced sight bigger when the next lot's run in.... But we got to do it. That S-Bar-I outfit'll give us a run for our money. But that's all to the hunky. Got your shooting irons o.k., boys?"
He shifted his eyes slowly to Bean Slade's thin body outstretched on a bunk, his hands beneath his head.
"Bean's funking," he sneered.
Bean lifted an angry head. "Bean Slade's got himself in this thing with both feet, you son-of-a-gun, an' he'll stick.... Just the same, the old H-Lazy-Z outfit's goin' to bust up this winter. This li'l boy's strikin' back fer civilisation—whatever that means."
Imp, resting against Dakota's foot, raised his sharp ears and grunted. In a couple of bounds Dakota had the door open. Professor Bulkeley stood outside, blinking and smiling through his spectacles.
"I'm so glad you haven't retired, friends," he chattered. "I couldn't let you go without a record of the pleasant associations with my estimable and cheery countrymen of the H-Lazy Z. Will you do me the honour of inscribing your names in this little book? My sister and I will look at it for many a year in remembrance of you when we're far away."
He stumbled over the step, a notebook in one hand, fountain pen in the other. Dakota laughed harshly.