They've both got it coming--come on!" This because Weary showed a strong inclination to take the trail and keep it to his destination.

"Well, I'll go alone, then.

I've got to kinda square myself for the way I threw it into Andy; and you know blamed well, Weary, they played it low-down on him, or they'd never have got that rope on him.

And I'm going to lick that--" "Mamma! You sure are a rambunctious person when you feel that way," Weary made querulous comment; but he rode over with Pink to where the bug-killer was standing with his long stick held in a somewhat menacing manner, and once more he held Pink's horse for him.
Pink was gone longer this time, and he came back with a cut lip and a large lump on his forehead; the bug-killer had thrown a small rock with the precision which comes of much practice--such as stoning disobedient dogs, and the like--and, when Pink rushed at him furiously, the herder caught him very neatly alongside the head with his stick.

These little amenities serving merely to whet Pink's appetite for battle, he stopped long enough to thrash that particular herder very thoroughly and to his own complete satisfaction.
"Well, I guess I'm ready to go on now," he observed, dimpling rather one-sidedly as he got back on his horse.
"I thought maybe you'd want to whip the dogs, too," Weary told him dryly; which was the nearest he came to expressing any disapproval of the incident.