"Forty men spend thirty dollars apiece with yu every month. "The
proprietor busied himself under the bar. "Yu'll feel better to-morrow.
Anyway, what do yu care, yu won't lose yore job," he said, emerging.
Buck looked at him and frowned, holding back the words which formed
in anger. What was the use, he thought, when every man judged the
world in his own way.
"Have yu seen any of th' boys?" He asked, smiling again.
"Nary a boy. Who do yu reckon's doin' all this rustlin'?"
"I'm reckonin', not shoutin'," responded the foreman.
The proprietor looked out the window and grinned: "Here comes one of
yourn now.
The newcomer stopped his horse in a cloud of dust, playfully kicked
the animal in the ribs and entered, dusting the alkali from him with a
huge sombrero. Then he straightened up and sniffed: "What's burnin'?"
he asked, simulating alarm. Then he noticed the cigar between the
teeth of his foreman and grinned: "Gee, but yore a brave man, Buck."
"Hullo, Hopalong," said the foreman. "Want a smoke?" Waving his hand
toward the box on the bar.
Mr. Hopalong Cassidy side-stepped and began to roll a cigarette:
"Shore, but I'll burn my own-I know what it is."
"What was yu doin' to my cayuse afore yu come in?" Asked Buck.
"Nothin'," replied the newcomer. "That was mine what I kicked in th'
corrugations."
"How is it yore ridin' the calico?" Asked the foreman.
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