V + 

When I woke up it was morning, and Milk River was prodding me with a finger. + 

“You figuring on getting up for breakfast, or would you like it brung to you?” + 

I moved cautiously until I found I was all in one piece. + 

“I can crawl that far.” + 

He sat down on a bunk across the room and rolled a cigarette while I put on my shoes⁠—the only things, except my hat, I hadn’t slept in. He had something to say, so I gave him time, lacing my shoes slowly. + 

Presently he said it: + 

“I always had the idea that nobody that couldn’t sit a horse some couldn’t amount to nothing much. I ain’t so sure now. You can’t ride any, and never will. You don’t seem to have the least notion what to do after you get in the middle of the animal! But, still and all, a hombre that’ll let a bronc dirty him up three times handrunning and then ties into a gent who tries to keep him from making it permanent, ain’t exactly hay wire.” + 

He lit his cigarette, and broke the match in half. + 

“I got a sorrel horse you can have for a hundred dollars. He don’t take no interest in handling cows, but he’s all horse, and he ain’t mean.” + 

I went into my money-belt⁠—slid five twenties over into his lap. + 

“Better look at him first,” he objected. + 

“You’ve seen him,” I yawned, standing up. “Where’s that breakfast you were bragging about?” + 

Six men were eating in the chuck-shack when we came in. Three of them were hands I hadn’t seen before. Neither Peery, Wheelan, nor Vogel was there. Milk River introduced me to the strangers as the high-diving deputy sheriff, and, between bites of the food the one-eyed Chinese cook put on the table, the meal was devoted almost exclusively to wise cracks about my riding ability. + 

That suited me. I was sore and stiff, but my bruises weren’t wasted. I had bought myself a place of some sort in this desert community, and maybe even a friend or two. In less than a day I had accomplished what, by milder means, would have taken weeks, or months. These cowhands were kidding me just about as they would have kidded each other. + 

We were following the smoke of our cigarettes outdoors when running hoofs brought a swirl of dust up the draw. + 

Red Wheelan slid off his horse and staggered out of the sand-cloud. + 

“Slim’s dead!” he said thickly. + 

Half a dozen voices shot questions at him. He stood swaying, trying to answer them. He was drunk as a lord! + 

“Nisbet shot him. I heard about it when I woke up this mornin’. He was shot early this mornin’⁠—in front of Bardell’s. I left ’em aroun’ midnight last night, an’ went down to Gaia’s. I heard about it this mornin’. I went after Nisbet, but”⁠—he looked down sheepishly at his empty belt⁠—“Bardell took m’ gun away.” + 

He swayed again. I caught him, steadying him. + 

“Horses!” Peery bawled over my shoulder. “We’re going to town!” + 

I let go of Wheelan and turned around. + 

“We’re going to town,” I repeated, “but no foolishness when we get there. This is my job, and if I want any help I’ll tell you.” + 

Peery’s eyes met mine. + 

“Slim belonged to us,” he said. + 

“And whoever killed Slim belongs to me,” I said. + 

That was all on the subject, but I didn’t think I had made the point stick. + 