But when Langley, with some misgiving, trusted his own bony fingers within that grasp, in was only as if something fleshy, soft, and bloodless had closed over them.

When his hand was released he rubbed it covertly against his trowser leg--to remove dirt--restore the circulation.

He did not know why.
"Who's bothering Jerry ?" asked Mac Strann.

"And where is he ?" He went to the wall without waiting for an answer and took down the saddle.

Now the cowpuncher's saddle is a heavy mass of leather and steel, and the saddle of Mac Strann was far larger than the ordinary.
Yet he took down the saddle as one might remove a card from a rack.
Haw-Haw Langley moved towards the door, to give himself a free space for exit.
"Jerry's hurt," he said, and he watched.
There was a ripple of pain on the face of Mac Strann.
"Hoss kicked him--fall on him ?" he asked.
"It weren't a hoss." "Huh?
A cow ?" "It weren't no cow.