noose neatly, and took his turns while Stopper planted his
forefeet and braced himself for the shock. Bud's right leg
was over the cantle, all his weight on the left stirrup when
the jerk came and the steer fell with a thump. By good luck--
so Bud afterwards asserted--he was off and had the steer tied
before it had recovered its breath to scramble up. He
remounted, flipped off the loop and recoiled his rope while
he went jogging up to meet a rider coming out to him.

If he expected thanks for what he had done, he must have
received a shock. Other riders had left their posts and were
edging up to hear what happened, and Bud reined up in
astonishment before the most amazing string of unseemly
epithets he had ever heard. It began with: "What'd you throw
that critter for?"--which of course is putting it mildly--and
ended in a choked phrase which one man may not use to
another's face and expect anything but trouble afterwards.

Bud unbuckled his gun and hung the belt on his saddle horn,
and dismounted. "Get off your horse and take the damnedest
licking you ever had in your life, for that!" He invited
vengefully. "You told me to tie down that steer, and I tied
him down. You've got no call to complain--and there isn't a
man on earth I'll take that kinda talk from. Crawl down, you
parrot-faced cow-eater--and leave your gun on the saddle."

The man remained where he was and looked Bud over
uncertainly. "Who are you, and where'd yuh come from?" he
demanded more calmly. "I never saw yuh before."