"We run every nester out of this country; and it's about time we
started in on the sheep," said this individual, and he spoke not
jestingly, but with a vicious meaning in his voice, that silenced the
talk.

Bailey was there and Houck, the T-Bar-T foreman, Bud Long, foreman of
the Blue, and possibly some fifteen or eighteen visiting cowboys. The
strident ill-nature of the speaker challenged argument, but the boys
were in good-humor.

"What you pickin' on Montoya for?" queried a cowboy, laughing. "He
ain't here."

Pete sat up, naturally interested in the answer.

"He's lucky he ain't," retorted the cow-puncher.

"_You're_ lucky he ain't," came from Pete's vicinity.

"Who says so?"

Andy White tugged at Pete's sleeve. "Shut up, Pete! That's Steve Gary
talkin'. Don't you go mixin' with Gary. He's right quick with his
gun. What's a-bitin' you, anyhow?"

"Who'd you say?" queried Pete.

"Gary--Steve Gary. Reckon you heard of him."