"So he is. You, too. You've got our ponies. Not in yore vest pockets, but
hid out in the brush somewheres. I'm servin' notice right now that Dave
and me have come to collect."

Dave opened his eyes upon a world which danced hazily before him. He had
a splitting headache.

"Wha's the matter?" he asked.

"You had a run-in with a bunch of sheep wranglers," Bob told him.
"They're going to be plumb sorry they got gay."

Presently Shorty returned. "That team's hooked up," he told the world at
large.

"You'll drive us, Steelman," announced Crawford.

"Me!" screamed the leader of the other faction. "You got the most nerve
I ever did see."

"Sure. Drive him home, Brad," advised Shorty with bitter sarcasm. "Black
his boots. Wait on him good. Step lively when yore new boss whistles." He
cackled with splenetic laughter.

"I dunno as I need to drive you home," Steelman said slowly, feeling his
way to a decision. "You know the way better'n I do."

The eyes of the two leaders met.

"You'll drive," the cattleman repeated steadily.