"Kinda. Just turn that calf loose, Kansas."
The rustler made no motion to obey.
Ben urged his horse forward. It bunched its feet, bent its hind legs, and slid down the side of the arroyo.
"Have you quit taking orders?"
Kansas Ed answered stubbornly:
"I've got my orders."
"You never got any orders from me to brand other people's stock. I'm not the foreman of a bunch of rustlers yet. You're fired, right now! Take your blankets, get your time and vamose. Sabe?"
"I sabe, all right," the cowboy sneered, "but you can't fire me!"
"We'll settle that when we get back to the ranch, but I can make you cut that calf loose or ride all night with a couple of turns of rope around your waist."
Kansas Ed saw that Ben was right in that particular, and sullenly obeyed. The sidelong look he cast at Ben as he rode away was full of malice, and Ben felt that his boast was true, that he could not fire the rustling cowboy, though stealing daily from Ben's friends.
