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Updated: June 22, 2025
Every boss herder has a horn; if he gits into trouble he blows it and all hands come a-runnin' to shoot holes in Mr. Cowman think I'll make one myself." He halted behind a rock and scrutinized the approaching horsemen over the top. "That's Jasp, in front," he observed impersonally. "I wouldn't mind ownin' that black mule of his'n, neither.
Hardy alone sprang forward to spoil his aim, and for a minute they bandied words like pistol shots as they struggled for the gun. Then with a last wailing curse, the big cowboy snapped the cartridge out of his rifle and handed it over to his partner. "You're right," he said, "let the dastard live. But if I ever git another chanst at Jasp Swope I'll kill him, if I swing for it!
"Here," rasped out Jim Swope, spurring his horse in between them, "what are you fellers tryin' to do? Git out of here, umbre go on now! Never mind, Jasp, I'll do the talkin'. You go on away, will ye! Now what's the matter with you, Mr. Creede, and what can I do for you?" Jasper Swope had whirled back from the blow as a rattler throws his coils.
It took as good a man as Rufe, here, to put me wise; but I leave my gun in camp after this. I've got them Greasers buffaloed, anyhow, and Jasp knows if he plugs me when I'm unarmed it'll be a sure shot for the pen. The time may come when guns is necessary, but I move that every man leave his six-shooter in his bed and we'll go after 'em with our bare hands. What d' ye say, Ben?"
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