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"Since yuh gotta know," snapped the puncher, "he got a hole drilled through one leg. He's right here behind me."
As Bud flung himself out of the saddle and hurried over to the man lying just inside the gully, McCabe stepped swiftly to the side of Stratton's horse. There was a mingling of doubt and sharp suspicion in the upturned face.
"Yuh sure are up an' doin' for a new hand," he commented swiftly. "Was it yuh put it into his head to come out here?"
"I reckon maybe it was," returned Buck easily. "When we woke up an' found you all gone, the kid got fretting considerable about his friend here, and I didn't see why we shouldn't ride out and join you. According to my mind, when you're out after rustlers, the more the merrier."
"Huh! He told yuh we was after rustlers?"
"Sure. Why not? It ain't any secret, is it? Leastwise, I didn't gather that from Bud."
McCabe's face relaxed. "Wal, I dunno as 't is," he shrugged. "Tex likes to run things his own way, though. Still, I dunno as there's any harm done. Truth is, we didn't get started soon enough. We was half a mile off when we heard the shot, an' rid up to find Rick drilled through the leg an' the thieves beatin' it for the mountains. The rest of the bunch lit out after 'em while I stayed with Rick. I dunno as they caught any of 'em, but I reckon they didn't have time to run off no cattle."
Stratton slid out of the saddle and threw the reins over the roan's head. He had not failed to notice the slight discrepancy in McCabe's statement as to the length of time it took the punchers to ride from the bunk-house to this spot, but he made no comment.
"Bemis hurt bad?" he asked.
"Not serious. It's a clean wound in his thigh. I got it tied up with his neckerchief."
"Want me to look you over?" he asked, bending down. "I've had considerable experience with this sort of thing, and maybe I can make you easier."
"Go to it," nodded the young chap briefly. "It ain't bleedin' like it was, but it could be a whole lot more comfortable."
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