Ross swore roundly and with great fervency as he tried to stop a nose-bleed with his coat-sleeve. Whitey, in his wrath, threw all discretion to the winds, as he struggled at his bonds, but could not loose them.
"You wait—you two cattle-thieves!" sputtered Whitey, as he lay on the floor of the cavern. "You wait till the Bar O outfit gets done with you. You and your counterfeit brands! Bill Jordan will hold a necktie-party and don't you forget it!"
"Put a gag onto him, Crowley," said Ross, as he wiped away some blood from his nose.
"Put it on yo'self," answered Crowley, "I got a belly-full o' monkeyin' with him, right now!" And Crowley showed a severe bruise on his shin as he rolled up the leg of his trousers.
"I'll put it on," said Tucker, eagerly; and taking a handkerchief, he bent over Whitey and started to insert the gag in no gentle manner. In a moment Tucker let out a howl and jumped back, nursing a badly bitten hand. With an oath he sprang back at Whitey and delivered a severe downward blow at Whitey's face, but Whitey ducked to one side, and Tucker's fist crashed against the rocky floor of the cavern. Before he had time to deliver another, Crowley had pulled him off, and hurled him aside.
"Now, listen, you big stiff," said Crowley, menacingly. "If yo' pulls any more o' that stuff, I'll tend to yo'—er mebbe I'll untie that kid an' sic him onto yo'! I knowed yo' was pretty low-down, but I give yo' more credit 'n to want to soak a boy—an' him with his hands an' feet tied!"
"Well, look what he done to me!" yelled Tucker, exhibiting his hands—one badly bitten, and the other bruised and bleeding from its contact with the rocky floor of the cavern. "Look what he done!"
"Well, yo' wanted the job of gaggin' him, didn't yo'?" said Crowley. "Yo' didn't s'pose thet rarin' catamount was gonna lie there an' let yo' put yo'r finger into his mouth 'thout bitin' it, did yo'? An' as fer thet other hand—I guess, mebbe, yo' ain't got no great kick comin' 'bout thet. I'd like t' seen yo' break yo'r arm!"
If Mr. "One-Card" Tucker was looking for sympathy, he needed some powerful glasses; for no matter how depraved and dishonest men are, there usually remains in them a liking for fair play and a certain sympathy for the under dog. And no matter how low their standard of morals may be otherwise, there are very few Western men who will stand by and see a man abuse either a woman or a boy or a dumb animal. It isn't in the breed.
Crowley turned to Ross, who, by this time, had managed to stop his nose-bleed: "I don't reckon thet this here ragin' hyena needs no gag. We'll stow him back in the cellar, an' he kin yell his head off, ef he wants to; he can't raise no holler loud 'nuff fer anybody to hear. A couple o' yo' men take an' tote him back into the angle back o' the cattle. An' look out how you handle him! He's a ring-tail Looloo, with a stinger on head an' tail!"