ot on yore topknot, Dad. I'm here to move these beeves along to the
Fort. Prince an' that Clanton may have gone on a tear an' got into
trouble or they may not. I don't care a plugged nickel which way it is.
I'm not keepin' herd on them, an' what's more I don't intend to."

"We can't leave 'em thataway. Dad gum it, we got to stand by the boys,
Joe. That's what Webb would tell us if he was here."

"But he ain't here, Dad. An' while he's gone I'm major-domo of this
outfit. We're headed north, not south."

"You may be. I'm not. An' I reckon you'll find several of the boys got
the same notion I have. I taken a fancy to both those young fellows, an'
if I hadn't I'd go help 'em just the same."

"You ain't expectin' to ride our stock on this fool chase, are you?"

"I'll ride the first good bronc I get my knees clamped to, Joe."

"As regards that, you'll get my answer like shot off'n a shovel. None of
the Flyin' V Y remuda is goin'."

Wrayburn cantered around the point of the herd to the swing, from the
swing back to the drag, and then forward to the left point. In the
circuit he had stopped to sound out each rider.

"We all have decided that ten of us will go back, Joe," he announced
serenely. "That leaves enough to loose-herd the beeves whilst we're
away."

Yankie grew purple with rage. "If you go you'll walk. I'll show you who's
foreman here."

"No use raisin' a rookus, Joe," replied the old Confederate mildly.
"We're goin'. Yore authority doesn't stretch far enough to hold us here."

"I'll show you!" stormed the foreman. "Some of you will go to sleep in
smoke if you try to take any of my remuda."

"Now don't you-all be onreasonable, Joe. We got to go. Cayn't you get it
through yore cocoanut that we've got to stand by our pardners?"

"That killer Clanton is no pardner of mine. I meant to burn powder with
him one of these days myself. If Wally Snaith beats me to it I'm not
goin' to wear black," retorted Yankie.

"Sho! The kid's got good stuff in him. An' nobody could ask for a squarer
pal than Billie Prince. You know that yore own self."

"You heard what I said, Dad. The Flyin' V Y horses don't take the back
trail to-day," insisted the foreman stubbornly.

The wrinkled eyes of Wrayburn narrowed a little. He looked straight at
Yankie.

"Don't get biggety, Joe. I'm not askin' you or any other man whether I
can ride to rescue a friend when he's in trouble. You don't own these
broncs, an' if you did we'd take '