ut that seemed to be all the effect of
his words. "The boys will put you onto the game in the morning, and Bud
will show you where to begin in case I don't show up in time. Better take
a fresh cayuse and let yours rest up some. Don't hurt Humble's ki-yi and
he'll be plumb nice to you; and if Silent wants to know how you likes
his singing and banjo playing, lie and say it's fine."

The laugh went around and all was serene with the good fellowship which
is so often found in good outfits.

"Joe, I'll bring the mail out with me, so you needn't go after it,"
continued the foreman as he strode towards the door. "That's what I'm
going over for," he laughed.

"Lord, I'd go, too, if pie and cake and good coffee was on the card,"
laughed Silent.

"We'll shore have to go over in a gang some night and raid that pantry,"
remarked Bud. "It would be a circus, all right."

"The sheriff would get some good target practice, that's shore," responded
Blake. "But I've got something better than that, and since you brought
the subject up I'll tell you now, so you'll be good.

"Mrs. Shields has promised to get up a fine feed for you fellows as soon
as Jim's sisters are on hand to help her, and as they are here now I
wouldn't be a whole lot surprised if I brought the invitation back with
me. How's that for a change, eh?" he asked.

"Glory be!" cried Silent. "Hurry up and get home!"

"Say, she's all right, ain't she!" shouted Jack, executing a jig to show
how glad he was.

"Pinch me, Humble, pinch me!" begged Bud. "I may be asleep and
dreaming--_here!_ What the devil do you think I am, you wart-headed
coyote!" he yelled, dancing in pain and rubbing his leg frantically.
"You blamed doodle bug, yu!"

"Well, I pinched you, didn't I?" indignantly cried Humble. "What's eating
you? Didn't you ask me to, you chump?"

"Hurry up and get that mail, Tom," cried Jim. "It might spoil--and say,
if she leads at you with that invite, clinch!"

Blake laughed and went off toward the corral. As he found the horse he
wished to ride he heard a riot in the bunk-house and he laughed silently.
A Virginia reel was in full swing and the noise was terrible. Riding
past the window, he saw Silent working like a madman at his banjo; and
assiduously playing a harmonica was The Orphan, all smiles and puffed-out
cheeks.

"Well, The Orphan is all right now," the foreman muttered as he swung out
on the trail to Ford's Station. "I reckon he's found himself."

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