en could attend to it as much as was necessary, and the ranch
owner was now in performance of this duty.

"I'll take the boys' mail, Bud," offered Old Billee, one of the veteran
cow punchers of Diamond X. "Don't reckon you got any for me, have
you?" he asked with a sort of wistful hope in his voice.

"Sorry, Billee, but there doesn't seem to be any," answered Bud.
"Better luck next time."

"No, I don't reckon there will be," sighed Old Billee. "All my friends
is dead an' gone, an' nobody else wants t' write t' an ole timer like
me." He took the letters destined for the other cowboys who were
engaged in various duties about the ranch, saying he would distribute
them, while Bud took those destined for his father to the sleeping
quarters of the men, where Yellin' Kid was forced to remain temporarily
in his bunk.

Nort and Dick had letters from "home," as they called their residence
in the East, though they had been west so long now that they might
almost be said to live on the ranch. And while Bud's cousins were
going over their missives, Mr. Merkel was doing the same with those his
son handed him.

"How are you, Kid?" asked Bud of the injured cowboy as Mr. Merkel sat
at a table tearing open the various envelopes.

"Oh, I'll be up and around again shortly," was the answer. "If you
figure on starting off after any more Indians I could get ready in
about two quivers of a steer's nose."

"Guess there won't be any more Indians around here for a while,"
observed Bud. "We taught those Yaquis a lesson."

"Now you're shoutin'!" exclaimed Yellin' Kid, though it was he, rather
than Bud, who spoke in a loud voice--hence the Kid's name. He just
couldn't seem to speak in ordinary tones, but appeared to take it for
granted that every one was deaf, and so shouted at them.

Suddenly the quiet reading and attention that Mr. Merkel had been
giving his letters was broken as he jumped up, scattering the papers to
the floor of the bunk house. He held in his hand a single sheet that
seemed to cause him great surprise, not to say anger, and he exclaimed:

"Well, it's come, just as I feared it would! Now we're in for some hot
times!"

"What's the matter, Dad?" asked Bud, looking toward the door in which
his cousins now stood, having finished reading their letters.

"Not another Indian uprising, is it?" asked Bud.

"Almost as bad!" his father answered. "We're going to have trouble. I
might have known things were too good