What the devil are you up to? I want you both to come and help me get three I've roped down the draw a couple of miles below here."
Douglas explained the accident.
"My gawd, Charleton, don't you know enough not to tackle a bull on foot?"
"How'd I know there was a bull around?" retorted the wounded man. "I dropped my rope and when I dismounted to pick it up, he came after me like a Kansas cyclone."
"Well, I'll take the bull to the corral and come back here for grub if Douglas will fix it up. We will put plenty of whiskey and hot coffee in you, Charleton. Do you think you can get home, while Doug and I ride herd?"
"I sure can! Go ahead, Scott. You'd better blind the bull."
Scott nodded, and picking up several handsful of dry dirt, he threw them into the bull's wide, bloodshot eyes. The animal snorted and tossed his head. Scott continued with handful after handful until the bull's eyes were only muddy blanks under his tossing forehead. His bellowing ceased. Then Scott removed the ropes from his hind legs and, mounting, led him away. The bull was silent and entirely occupied in attempting to rub the dirt out of his streaming eyes.
"Make it as quick as you can, Scott," called Charleton. Then to Douglas, "Get busy with the whiskey and coffee, Doug. He ought to be back by the time you've fixed up a snack."
But Scott was long in returning.
"Oughtn't he to be back?" asked Doug, when the bacon was ready.
Charleton looked at his watch. "He's been gone over
