"Just call me 'Kid,'" smiled the Texan, "fo' I think we'll be friends."
"I hope so," said the other, flashing him a grateful look. "Well, I'm 'Red' Morton. My brother and me own the Diamond D, and we've shore been havin' one hot time. Guess we're plumb beat."
"Wheah's yo' brother now?"
"He's at the sod house with our south herd. These two men are the only punchers left me—'Lefty' Warren and Mike Train. There was one more. The rustlers shot him." Red Morton's eyes gleamed fiercely.
"Yo' know who the rustlers were?"
"Blacksnake McCoy's gang. He's been causin' us a lot o' trouble. Until now, that bunch have just been runnin' a smooth iron and swingin' their loops wide. But yesterday they drove off every steer. Half of all the longhorns on the Diamond D!" Red's lips tightened grimly.
"Excuse us," spoke up one of the cowboys, Lefty Warren, "for takin' yuh fer one o' them cutthroats, but we was b'ilin' mad. It's a good thing fer us yuh wasn't. Yuh shore slipped in on us slick as a whistle."
"I'm hopin' my bud, Joe, don't think it was my fault that Blacksnake got away with the herd," groaned the red-haired youth. "Reckon we'll have to sell out now."
"That's it," agreed the eldest of the trio—the man called Mike Train.
"The Diamond D would be on Easy Street now, if we had the cattle back.
The mortgage——"
"Who would yo' sell to?" asked The Kid quietly.