The noise in the bunk house continued and finally a sombrero was waved frantically at the south window and a moment later Nat Boggs, foreman of the incarcerated 4X outfit, stuck his head out very cautiously and yelled questions which bore directly on the situation and were to the point.  He appeared to be excited and unduly heated, if one might judge from his words and voice.  There was no reply, which still further added to his heat and excitement.  Becoming bolder and a little angrier he allowed his impetuous nature to get the upper hand and forthwith attempted the feat of getting through that same window; but a sharp pat! sounded on a board not a foot from him, and he reconsidered hastily.  His sombrero again waved to insist on a truce, and collected two holes, causing him much mental anguish and threatening the loss of his worthy soul.  He danced up and down with great agility and no grace and made remarks, thereby leading a full-voiced chorus.

“Ain’t that a hell of a note?” he demanded plaintively as he paused for breath.  “Stick yore hat out, Cranky, an’ see what you can do,” he suggested, irritably.

Cranky Joe regarded him with pity and reproach, and moved back towards the other end of the room, muttering softly to himself.  “I know it ain’t much of a bonnet, but he needn’t rub it in,” he growled, peevishly.

“Try again; mebby they didn’t see you,” suggested Jim Larkin, who had a reputation for never making a joke.  He escaped with his life and checked himself at the side of Cranky Joe, with whom he conferred on the harshness of the world towards unfortunates.

The rest of the morning was spent in snipe-shooting at random, trusting to luck to hit some one, and trusting in vain.  At noon Cranky Joe could stand the strain no longer and opened the door just a little to relive the monotony.  He succeeded, being blessed with a smashed shoulder, and immediately became a general nuisance, adding greatly to the prevailing atmosphere.  Boggs called him a few kinds of fools and hastened to nail the door shut; he hit his thumb and his heart became filled with venom.

“Now look at what they went an’ done!” he yelled, running around in a circle.  “Damned outrage!”

“Huh!” snorted Cranky Joe with maddening superiority.  “That ain’t nothing—­just look at me!”

Boggs looked, very fixedly, and showed signs of apoplexy, and Cranky Joe returned to his end of the room to resume his soliloquy.

“Why don’t you come out an’ take them cows!” inquired an unkind voice from without.  “Ain’t changed yore mind, have you?”

“We’ll give you a drink for half a cent a head—­that’s the regular price for watering cows,” called another.

The faint ripple of mirth which ran around the plain was lost in opinions loudly expressed within the room; and Boggs, tears of rage in his eyes, flung himself down on a chair and invented new terms for describing human beings.