asked.

"Sure! And I think we'll be lucky on the weather. Looks like rain to
me."

"Well, I hope so. It's all set for to-morrow night, then?"

"Check! All set. To-morrow night it is."

Outside Bud was listening intently, his heart thumping in his breast.

CHAPTER XV

BILLEE DOBB'S STORY

Back at the Shooting Star ranch the three others, Nort, Billee Dobb and
Yellin' Kid, were occupying themselves with the business of the day.
The Kid having reported on the condition of the "shacks," Nort decided
that a new bunk house would be necessary before the shearing season to
accommodate the extra men. He and Yellin' Kid, together with Billee
Dobb, then lazed about the place, awaiting the return of Dick and Bud.
It was eleven o'clock before Dick came riding into the yard.

"Bring any grub back with you?"

"No. The store said the buckboard would be right over, almost as soon
as I got here. Is the kitchen all cleaned out?"

"Pretty near, I guess. That's what the Mex meant when I caught him at
the door. Gee, I wish----"

He was interrupted by a rattling and creaking, and the sound of horses
beating a fast tattoo on the hard earth. Above this bedlam arose the
sound of a voice in loud and vigorous denunciation.

"Here she comes!" Nort cried. "The food! Say, that team must have
been stepping right along. Got here almost as soon as you did, Dick."

With a final roar and crash of wooden timbers, and a last invocation
to: "Hold up there, you two wildcats, or I'll bust you wide open," the
cart drew up to the ranch house door.

From its swaying side the driver, a grinning youth in a blue shirt and
red bandanna 'kerchief about his neck, climbed down.

"Get here in time?" he called. "Sure had these here babies rollin'
right along." Then without even a halt for breath he went on: "What do
you think of this here team? Best pair of ponies in the state! Lean
down, baby, 'til I smooth those ears of yours. Down, I say! Why, you
spavin-boned piece of horse meat! Come down here or I'll chew you up!
Throw your head back at me, will you? Of all the knock-kneed,
wall-eyed chunks of locoed craziness, you're the worst. Pete, you
pink-headed, glandered cayuse, drop that neck or I'll skin you alive.
That's the stuff! Best little pair of broncoes in the state, boys!"

"You sure got some vocabulary!" laughed Dick. "Think a lot of your
team, don't you--sometimes! Yes, you got here in plenty of time."

"Bring