"I think he's some bear-cat, that young fellow. When you 're looking for something easy to mix with, go pick a grizzly or a wild cat, but don't you monkey with friend Beaudry. He's liable to interfere with your interior geography.… Say, Dingwell. Do I get to cull this bunch of longhorn skeletons you're misnaming cattle?"
"You do not."
The Denver man burlesqued a sigh. "Oh, well! I'll go broke dealing with you unsophisticated Shylocks of the range. The sooner the quicker. Send 'em down to the siding. I'll take the bunch."
Roy rode up on a pinto.
"Help! Help!" pleaded the Coloradoan of the young man.
"He means that I've unloaded this corral full of Texas dinosaurs on him at nineteen a throw." explained Dave.
"You've made a good bargain," Beaudry told the buyer.
"'Course he has, and he knows it." Dingwell opened on Roy his gay smile. "I hear you've had a run-in with the bad man of Chicito Cañon, son."
Roy looked at the Denver man reproachfully. Ever since the affair on the station platform he had been flogging himself because he had driven away and left Meldrum in possession of the field. No doubt all Battle Butte knew now how frightened he had been. The women were gossiping about it over their tea, probably, and men were retailing the story in saloons and on sidewalks.
"I didn't want any trouble," he said apologetically. "I—I just left him."