"I oughta be hung for laying around the fire here instead of being out there
on guard! I oughta--"
"It ain't your fault," Weary championed him warmly. "We all heard the bell--"
"Yes--and damn it,_I_ heard the bell from then on till daylight!" Pink's lips
quivered perceptibly with the mortification that burned within him. "If I'd
been on guard--"
"Well, I calc'late you'd a been laid out now with a knife-cut in yuh som'ers,"
Applehead stopped twisting his sunburnt mustache to say bluntly. "'S a dang
lucky thing fer you, young man, 't you WASN'T on guard, 'n' the only thing't
looks queer to me is that you wasn't potted las' night when yuh got out away
from here. Musta been only one of 'em stayed behind, an' he had t' keep out in
front uh yuh t' tinkle that dang bell. Figgered on wearin' out yer hoss, I
reckon, 'n' didn't skurcely dare t' take the risk uh killin' you off 'nless
they was a bunch around t' handle us." His bright blue eyes with their range
squint went from one to another with a certain speculative pride in the
glance. "'N' they shore want t' bring a crowd along when they tie into this
yere outfit, now I'm tellin' yuh!"
Lite Avery, who had gone prowling down the draw by himself, came back to camp,
tilting stiff-leggedly along in his high-heeled boots and betraying, in every
step he took, just how handicapped a cowpuncher is when set afoot upon the
range and forced to walk where he has always been accustomed to ride.
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