"Anybody's better off for at least one friend," repeated Judith stoutly.
"Darn it! All of you picking on poor old Scott!"

"Lean on me, Grandpa!" piped Jimmy Day.

Scott's haggard eyes focused on Judith. "I'll hold you to that, Jude! By
God, you're the only white man in the valley! I came in to give myself
up, Jude. The cold got me. I shot him, after he'd rebranded the bull
before my eyes and after he'd given me this."

He ripped open his mackinaw and shirt and tore a rag from his shoulder,
disclosing a vivid wound. "I ain't the only one that's quick on the
trigger!"

There was a quick murmur among the riders. John and Charleton, the oldest
men in the group, looked at each other.

"Charleton, you and Jimmy Day ride to Scott's house with him," said John.
"I'll go to the house and telephone to the sheriff." He mounted and rode
off.

"Can your horse carry you so far, Scott?" asked Judith.

Scott nodded, with something curiously like tears in his hard hazel eyes.
"You take the bull, Jude," he said. "I'd like for you to have him. He's
standard bred."

Judith's eyes shone like stars. "If Dad'll only let me! Do you think he
will, Doug?"