Leading the roan into a corral which ranged beyond the kitchen, Stratton unsaddled him and turned him loose. Having hung the saddle and bridle in the adjacent shed, he tucked his bundle under one arm and headed for the bunk-house. He was within a few yards of the entrance to the long, adobe structure when the door was suddenly flung open and a slim, slight figure, hatless and stripped to the waist, plunged out, closely pursued by three other men.
He ran blindly with head down, and Buck had just time to drop his bundle and extend both arms to prevent a collision. An instant later his tense muscles quivered under the impact of some hundred and thirty pounds of solid bone and muscle; the runner staggered and flung up his head, a gasp of terror jolted from his lips.
"Oh!" he said more quietly, his tone an equal blend of astonishment and relief. "I thought--Don't let 'em--"
He broke off, flushing. He was a pleasant-faced youngster of not more than eighteen or nineteen, with a tangled mop of blonde hair and blue eyes, the pupils of which were curiously dilated. Stratton, whose extended arms had caught the boy just under the armpits, could feel his heart pounding furiously.
"What's the matter, kid?" he asked briefly.
"They were going to brand me--on the back," the boy muttered.
Over the fellow's bare, muscular shoulders Buck's glance swept the trio who had pulled up just outside the bunk-house door. They seemed typical cow-punchers in dress and manner. Two of them were tall and well set up; the third was short and stocky and held a branding iron in one hand. Meeting Stratton's gaze, he laughed loudly.
"By cripes, Bud! Yuh shore are easy. I thought yuh had more guts than to be scared of an iron that's hardly had the chill took off."
He guffawed again, the other two joining in. A flush crept up into the boy's face, but his lips were firm now, and as he turned to face the others his eyes narrowed slightly.
"If it's so cold as that mebbe you'd like me to try it on yuh," he suggested significantly.
The short man haw-hawed again, but not quite so boisterously. Buck noticed that he held the branding iron carefully away from his leg.
"I shore wouldn't hollar like you done 'fore I was touched," he retorted. "Wal, we got his goat good that time, didn't we, Butch? Better come in an' git yore shirt on 'fore the boss sees yuh half naked."