"Be away long?"
"Four or five days, I guess. You needn't worry your head. You couldn't help none."
Cockney made no reply, though he winced a little at the sneer.
"Off to town, I see," jeered Dakota. "Best place for you—when you feel that way. Taking the missus?"
Cockney remained silent, thinking.
"Or are you leaving her to us?"
Without moving his feet, Cockney's great fist shot out and caught the side of Dakota's head. As his back struck the prairie the cowboy reached for his gun, but Cockney was on him with a bound, wrenching one gun from his hand and another from a loose pocket in his chaps. With one hand he lifted Dakota to his feet and released him.
"I don't like the way you speak of my wife," he thundered.
Dakota, helpless and a little cowed without his guns, glared his fury.
"It's as good as you treat her," he snarled.