"Well, I never grew up with your face before me, either!" Bud
snapped. "If I had I'd probably be cross-eyed by now. You
called me something! Get off that horse or I'll pull you
off!"

"Aw, yuh don't want to mind--" began a tall, lean man
pacifically; but he of the high nose stopped him with a wave
of the hand, his eyes still measuring the face, the form and
the fighting spirit of one Bud Birnie, standing with his coat
off, quivering with rage.

"I guess I'm in the wrong, young fellow--I DID holler 'Tie
'im down.' But if you'd ever been around this outfit any
you 'd have known I didn't mean it literal." He stopped and
suddenly he laughed. "I've been yellin' 'Tie 'im down' for
two years and more, when a critter breaks outa the bunch, and
nobody was ever fool enough to tackle it before. "It's just a
sayin' we've got, young man. We--"

"What about the name you called me?" Bud was still advancing
slowly, not much appeased by the explanation. "I don't give a
darn about the steer. You said tie him, and he's tied. But
when you call me--"

"My mistake, young feller. When I get riled up I don't pick
my words." He eyed Bud sharply. "You're mighty quick to obey
orders," He added tentatively.

"I was brought up to do as I'm told, "Bud retorted stiffly. "Any
objections to make?"