Stop your rantin' or we'll sure handle you rough." "The old man's comin'," called Jim, warningly.
The rancher appeared.

He strode swiftly, ponderously.

His gray hair waved.

His look was as stern as that of an eagle.
"What the hell's goin' on ?" he roared.
The cowboys released Jack.

That worthy, sullen and downcast, muttering to himself, stalked for the house.
"Jack, stand your ground," called old Belllounds.
But the son gave no heed.