"Since five o'clock yesterday evenin'. I was turnin' over the herd this mo'nin' when the little lady showed up an' I had to pull off the bulldoggin'."
"Wadley fire you?"
"That's whatever."
"Why?"
"Didn't like the way I mussed up son Rutherford, I kind o' gathered."
"Another of yore fool plays. First you beat up Wadley's boy; then you 'most massacree his daughter. Anything more?"
"That's all up to date—except that the old man hinted I was a brand-burner."
"The deuce he did!"
"I judge that son Rutherford had told him I was one of the Dinsmore gang. Seems I'm all right except for bein' a rowdy an' a bully an' a thief an' a bad egg generally."
"H'mp! Said you was a rustler, did he?" The Ranger caressed his goatee and reflected on this before he pumped a question at the line-rider. "Are you?"