ou
give him a whitewashed certificate as a bony-fidy Sunday-school scholar.

"Different here. I think him a coyote and a crook, and so I say it right
out in meeting. Any objections?" The gaze of the boss shifted from
Sanderson to Yeager, and fastened.

"None in the world. You think what you like, Brill, and we'll stick to
our opinions," Yeager replied cheerfully.

"And when I get good and ready I'll act on mine," Healy replied with an
evil grin.

"If you find it right convenient. I expect Keller ain't exactly a wooden
cigar Indian. Maybe he'll have a say-so in what's doing," suggested
Yeager.

"About as much as he had last time," sneered the round-up boss. With
which he rose, stretched himself, and gave orders. "Time to turn in,
boys. We're combing Old Baldy to-morrow, remember."

"And Old Baldy's sure a holy terror," admitted Slim.

"Come three more days and we'd ought to be through. I'm not going to
grieve any when we are. This high life don't suit me too durned well,"
put in Benwell.

"Yet when you come here first you was a right sick man, Tom. Now, you're
some healthy. Don't that prove the outside of a hawss is good for the
inside of a man, like the docs say?" grinned Purdy.

"Tom's notion of real living is sassiety with a capital S," explained
Cuffs. "You watch him cut ice at the Frying Pan dance next week. He'll
be the real-thing lady-killer. All you lads going, I reckon. How about
you, Jim?"

Yeager said he expected to be there.

"With yore friend the rustler?" asked Healy insolently over his
shoulder.

"I haven't got any friend that's a rustler."

"I'm speaking of Mr. Larrabie Keller." There was a slurring inflection
on the prefix.

"He'll be there, I shouldn't wonder."

"I'd wonder a heap," retorted Healy. "You'll see he won't show his face
there."

"That's where you're wrong, Brill. He told me he was going," spoke up
Phil triumphantly.

"We'll see. He's wise to the fact that this country knows him for an
out-and-out crook. He'll stay in his hole."

"You going, Slim?" asked Purdy amiably, to turn the conversation into a
more pacific channel.

"Sure," answered that young giant, getting lazily to his feet. "Well,
sons, the boss is right. Time to pound our ears."

They rolled themselves in their blankets, the starry sky roofing their
bedroom. Within five minutes every man of them was asleep except the
night herders--and one other.

Healy lay a little apart from the rest, partially scr