"Cut you, Bill?"

"Bad!" said Bill, exhibiting a cut above the ear--the result of Andy's
basin-throwing.

"Oh, you go 'long!" said Mrs. Bailey, pushing him away. "Askin' for
stickin'-plaster for a scratch like that!"

Bill Haskins growled and grumbled as he took his place at the table.
He kept shaking his head like a dog with a sore ear, vowing that if he
found out "who thrun that basin" there would be an empty chair at the
Concho board before many days had passed.

Andy White glanced at Pete and snickered. Bill Haskins glowered and
felt of his head. "Liked to skelp me," he asserted. "Ma, I jest ask
you what you would do now, if you was settin' peaceful in the
bunk-house pawin' over your war-bag, lookin' for a clean shirt, and all
of a sudden _whing_! along comes a warsh-basin and takes you right over
the ear. Wouldn't you feel like killin' somebody?"

"Lookin' for a clean shirt!" whispered Andy to Pete. "Did you git
that?"

Bill "got" it--and flushed amazingly. "I was meanin' a clean--clean
dress, Mrs. Bailey. A clean dress or stockin's, mebby."

"Bill was lookin' for a clean dress," snickered Andy. Pete grinned.

"Bill, I reckon it ain't your ear that needs that sticking-plaster. A