The leader of the troop was a small man with a gray mustache, who wore a Captain's bars. He was hot and angry. Some days he would be there at the camp, sharpening his knife. He shook his head.
Pete Spettle, anger in his face, leaped in and tried to get the quirt, but Dixon backhanded him and Pete went down--it turned out his nose was broken. Here you've brought these cattle all this way, with all this inconvenience to me and everybody else, and you don't have no reason in this world to be doing it. No, I think he's headed for the Purgatory River, Augustus said. After that it was no great trouble to drag the horse and the pack mule out.
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