"If my brother hadn't killed him, he would probably have killed my horse, and maybe me," added Sam.
"Somebody has got to pay for the damage done," growled the cowboy. "I am not going to stand for it, not me, so sure as my name is Jim Jones." And he shook his head determinedly.
"Well, Mr. Jones, I am sorry I had to kill your steer, but it had to be done, and that is all there is to it," said Dick calmly.
"That ain't payin' for the critter, is it?"
"No."
"An' do you reckon I'm goin' to let the boss take the price out o' my wages?" continued Jim Jones warmly.
"Isn't the steer worth something as meat?"
"Yes, but not near as much as he was wuth on the hoof."
"We might take up a collection for Mr. Jones, if he is a poor man," suggested Songbird, who did not want any trouble.
"But we haven't got to do it," broke in Tom. "It was his business not to let the steer run wild in the first place."
"So you're going to take a hand, eh?" stormed the cowboy; then, feeling he was in the minority, he went on more humbly: "Yes, I'm a poor man, and this may get me discharged."
