The stranger threw the papers at Sylvane's feet.
"Well," remarked Sylvane, "if that's all the business you have, you can go straight back where you came from."
The stranger strode toward the cow, Sylvane did likewise. They reached the rope at the same moment. There was a shout from the delighted audience of cowpunchers.
The stranger released his hold on the rope. "If you say I can't take her, I can't take her," the man grumbled. "There's too many of you. But I'll bring back men that can."
"Well, turn yourself loose," remarked Sylvane agreeably. "You'll need a lot of them."
There was another shout from the onlookers, and the stranger departed. Sylvane threw the papers into the mess-wagon.
Roosevelt did not happen to be present, and in his absence the sober counsel of "Deacon" Cummins made itself heard. The gist of it was that Sylvane had resisted an officer of the law, which was a criminal offense.
Sylvane, who was afraid of nothing that walked on two legs or on four, had a wholesome respect for that vague and ominous thing known as the Law.
"Say, I don't want to get in bad with any sheriff," he said, really worried. "What had I oughter do?"
The "Deacon," who possibly rejoiced at being for once taken seriously, suggested that Sylvane ride to Gladstone and see if he could not straighten the matter out. The other cowpunchers, whose acquaintance with legal procedure was as vague as Sylvane's, agreed that that plan sounded reasonable. Sylvane went, accompanied by the "Deacon" and another cowboy. If there was a gleam of wicked triumph in the stranger's eye when Sylvane rode up to him, Sylvane failed to notice it. Before a justice of the peace he agreed to appear in court on a certain date, and his two companions furnished a bond.
Next day, while they were in camp on the Heart River, an acquaintance of Sylvane's, a lawyer who rejoiced in the harmonious name of Western Starr, rode in from Dickinson to have dinner with "the boys." Sylvane showed him the papers the stranger had deposited at his feet.
The lawyer glanced over them. "What are these?" he asked.
"I don't know," answered Sylvane lightly. "That's what I handed them to you for, to find out."
"Why," exclaimed Starr, "these aren't anything. They haven't been signed by anybody."