"Hell, no! No use beefin' twelve hundred dollars' worth of meat. We
don't need that much."

"Look out! He's coming again!" called Bartley.

Cheyenne had suddenly poked his head out of the shallow cave. The bull
charged, backed down, and amused himself by tossing dirt over his
shoulders and grumbling like distant thunder.

"Perhaps if you stay in that cave and don't show yourself, he'll leave,"
suggested Bartley.

"Stay nothin'!" answered Cheyenne. "There's a rattler in this here cave.
I can hear him singin'. I'm comin' out, right now!"

Bartley leaned forward and glanced down. The branch on which he was
straddled snapped.

"Look out below!" he shouted as he felt himself going.

Bartley's surprising evolution was too much for his majesty the bull,
who whirled and galloped clumsily down the slope. Bartley rolled to the
bottom, still holding to a broken branch of the tree. Cheyenne was also
at the bottom of the gulch. The bull was trotting heavily toward his
herd.

"Is there anything hooked to the back of my jeans?" queried Cheyenne.

"No. They're torn; that's all."