He rounded to in front of the women, and halted with a suddenness that would have flung a less skilful rider over his head, but which hardly caused Budd Hankinson a jar.
He read the questioning eyes, and before the words could shape themselves on the pallid lips he called out: "The mischief is to pay!" "What is it, Budd ?" asked Jennie, she and her mother stepping close to his box-stirrup.
"We have had a fight with the rustlers--one of the worst I ever seed--there was eight of 'em." "Was anybody--hurt ?" faltered the mother.
"Wal, I reckon; three of them rustlers won't rustle again very soon, onless that bus'ness is carried on below, where they've gone; two others have got holes through their bodies about the size of my hat." "But--but were any of our people injured ?" continued the parent, while Jennie tried to still the throbbing of her heart until the answer came.
"Wal, yes," replied Budd, removing his hat and passing his handkerchief across his forehead, as though the matter was of slight account; "I'm sorry to say some of us got it in the neck." "Who--who--how was it?
Don't trifle!" "Wal, you see Zip Peters rode over from Capt.

Whiting's to tell us about the rustlers, and he hadn't much more'n arriv, when along come the others behind him with one of our branded steers.

I made them give him up, and then the fight was on.

Zip got a piece of lead through the body and the arm, and went out of the saddle without time to say good-by.

My hip was grazed twice, but it didn't amount to nothin'; I'm as good as ever.