at, and glared at Corliss.
"I quit," he snapped. "You can hire a new cook."

Despite his preoccupation Corliss smiled. "All right, Hi. Now that
you're out of a job, you might saddle up and ride with us. We'll need
some one to keep us good-natured, I reckon."

"Now you're whistlin'!" said Wingle. "Got a gun I can use? I give
mine to Sundown."

"There's one over in the office on the desk. But we're going to push
the herd over to the water-hole. We're not going there to fight."

"Huh! Goin' to be quiet, eh? Mebby I better take my knittin' along to
pass the time."

And Wingle departed toward the office. Rejoining Corliss they rode
with the men to the Knoll. Bud Shoop nodded gravely as his employer
told him of Loring's occupation of the west bank of the river. Then
the genial Bud rode over to the herd that was bunched in anticipation
of just such a contingency as had developed. "It's a case of push 'em
along easy--and all night," he told his men. "And if any of you boys
is out of cartridges there's plenty in the wagon."

John Corliss rode with his men. He told them to cut out any stray
Two-Bar-O stock they saw and turn them back. Toward evening they had
the cattle in motion, drifting slowly toward the north. The sixteen
riders, including Corliss and Wingle, spread out and pushed the herd
across the afternoon mesas. The day was hot and there was no water
between the Knoll and Sundown's ranch. Corliss intended to hold the
cattle when within a mile of the water-hole by milling them until
daylight. When they got the smell of water, he knew that he would not
be able to hold them longer, nor did he wish to. He regretted the fact
that Chance was running with him, for he knew that Loring's men, under
the circumstances, would shoot the dog if they had opportunity.

Toward evening the outfit drew up in a draw and partook of a hearty
supper. The cattle began to lag as they were urged forward, and Chance
was called into requisition to keep after the stragglers. As the herd
was not large,--in fact, numbered but five hundred,--it was possible to
keep it moving steadily and well bunched, throughout the night.

Within a short mile of the water-hole the riders began to mill the herd.

Bud Shoop, riding up to Corliss, pointed toward the east. "Reckon we
can't hold 'em much longer, Jack. They're crazy dry--and they smell
water."

"All right, Bud. Hold 'em for fifteen minutes more. Then take four of
the