argyment. We was tusslin' some an' I didn't want no gun."

How characteristic of cowboys that they lied to shield Jack Belllounds!
But it was futile to attempt to deceive the old rancher. Here was a man
who had been forty years dealing with all kinds of men and events.

"Bludsoe, you can't fool me," said old Bill, calmly. He had roared at
them, and his eyes still flashed like blue fire, but he was calm and
cool. Returning the gun to its owner, he continued: "I reckon you'd
spare my feelin's an' lie about some trick of Jack's. Did he bust out?"

"Wal, tolerable like," replied Bludsoe, dryly.

"Ahuh! Tell me, then--an' no lies."

Belllounds's shrewd eyes had rested upon Wilson Moore. The cowboy's
face showed the red marks of battle and the white of passion.

"I'm not going to lie, you can bet on that," he declared, forcefully.

"Ahuh! I might hev knowed you an' Jack'd clash," said Belllounds,
gruffly. "What happened?"

"He hurt my horse. If it hadn't been for that there'd been no trouble."

A light leaped up in the old man's bold eyes. He was a lover of horses.
Many hard words, and blows, too, he had dealt cowboys for being brutal.

"What'd he do?"