“He took yuh for a horse-thief, most likely,” explained Jack Bates.

“He didn’t need no field glass to see you was a suspicious character, by golly,” chortled Slim.

“He thought yuh was after what little your friend Dan had overlooked, chances is,” added Cal Emmett.

“Did the fog roll down and hide the horrible sight?” asked Jack Bates.

That, and much more, brought about a distinct coldness between the Happy Family and one Andy Green, so that the sun went down upon Andy’s wrath, and rose to find it still bubbling hotly in the outraged heart of him.

It was Jack Bates who precipitated an open war by singing an adapted version of “Massa’s In the Cold, Cold Ground,” just when they were eating breakfast.  As an alleged musical effort it was bad enough, but as a personal insult it was worse.  One hesitates to repeat the doggerel, even in an effort to be exact.  However, the chorus, bellowed shamelessly by Jack, was this: 

    “Down in the Bad-lands, hear that awful sound. 
    Andy Green is there a-weeping—­”

Jack Bates got no further than that, for Andy first threw his plate at Jack and then landed upon him with much force and venom, so that Jack went backwards and waved long legs convulsively in the air, and the Happy Family stood around and howled their appreciation of the spectacle.

When it dawned upon them that Andy was very much in earnest, and that his fist was landing with unpleasant frequency just where it was most painful to receive it, they separated the two by main strength and argued loudly for peace.  But Andy was thoroughly roused and would have none of it, and hurled at them profanity and insulting epithets, so that more than Jack Bates looked upon him with unfriendly eyes and said things which were not calculated to smooth roughened tempers.

“That’s a-plenty, now,” quelled Chip, laying detaining hand upon the nearest, who happened to be Andy himself.  “You sound like a bunch of old women.  What do you want to do the worst and quickest, Andy?—­and I don’t mean killing off any of these alleged joshers, either.”

Andy clicked his teeth together, swallowed hard and slowly unclenched his hands and grinned; but the grin was not altogether a pleasant one, and the light of battle still shone in the big, gray eyes of him.

“You’re the boss,” he said, “but if yuh don’t like my plans you’ll just have one less to pay wages to.  What I’m going to do is throw my saddle on my private horse and ride down into the Bad-lands and see for myself how the cards lay.  Maybe it’s awful funny to the rest of yuh, but I’m takin’ it kinda serious, myself, and I’m going to find out how about it before I’m through.  I can’t seem to think it’s a josh when some old mark makes a play like that fellow did, and tries to put a bullet into my carcass for riding the same trail he took.  It’s me for the Bad-lands—­and you can think what yuh damn’ please about it.”