"You durned old idiot! It's a wonder you ain't dead three ways for
Sunday," he shouted joyfully at sight of him. "Ain't I told you 'steen
times to do what bathin' you got to do, right here in the shack?"

The Texan laughed again. Naked as that of Father Adam, his splendid
body was glowing with the bath and the exercise.

"He's ce'tainly the worst chump ever, Alec. Had me in sight all the
way down to the creek, but waited till I wasn't moving. Reckon he was
nervous. Anyhow, he waited just one-tenth of a second too late. Shot
just as I leaned forward for my dive. He gave me a free hair-cut
though."

A swath showed where the bullet had mowed a furrow of hair so close
that in one place it had slightly torn the scalp.

"He shot again, didn't he?"

"Yep. I swam along the far bank, so that he couldn't get at me, and
crossed into the aspens. He got another chance as I was crossing, but
he had to take it on the fly, and missed."

The cattleman surveyed the hillside cautiously through the front
window. "I reckon he's pulled his freight, most likely. But we'll stay
cooped for a while, on the chance. You're the luckiest cuss I ever did
see. More lives than a cat."

Howard laid his revolver down within reach, and proceeded to light a
fire in the stove, from which rose presently the pleasant odors of
aromatic coffee and fried ham and eggs.