He looked reproachfully at Mr.
Connors and then circled out on the plain until he caught a glimpse of a fleeing cow-puncher, whose back rapidly grew smaller in the fast-increasing distance.
"That's yore friend, Red," said Mr.Cassidy as he returned from his reconnaissance.

"He's that short-horn yearling.

Mebby he'll come back again," he added hopefully.

"Anyhow, we've got to move.

He'll collect reinforcements an' mebby they all won't shoot like him.