how a little hill like that
could make a man blow," said Johnny, winking at Carrie.

But old Forty-nine only drew a long, thin wild flower through his hand,
and looked up now and then to the girl. He beckoned her to approach,
and she came dancing across to where he sat.

"It's a sad looking flower, and it's a small one. But, my girl, the
smallest flower is a miracle. And, Carrie, sometimes the sweetest
flowers grows closest to the ground."

The man handed her the flower, and was again silent. His face had for a
moment been almost beautiful. Here Logan came up with a little wood.

"Oh, John Logan, what a pretty flower for your button-hole!" and the
fond girl bounded across and eagerly placed it in the young man's
breast.

The old man on the keg saw this, and his face grew dark. His hands
twisted nervously, and he could hardly keep his seat on his keg. Then he
hitched up his pants right and left, sat down more resolutely on the keg
than before, but said nothing for a long time.

At last the old man hitched about on his keg, and said sharply, over his
shoulder: "I saw a track, a boot-track, coming up. On the watch, there!"

The others looked about as if alarmed. It was now dark. Suddenly the two
men appeared, looking right and left, and smiling villainously. They
came as if they had followed Forty-nine, and not from behind the rocks,
where they had been secreted.

"Good evenin', sir! good evenin', sir! Going to rain, eh? Heard it
thunder, and thought best to get shelter. Cattle-men--we're cattle-men,
pard and I. Seed your camp-fire, and as it was thunderin,' we came right
in. All right, boss? All right, eh? All right?" And the man, cap in
hand, bowed from one to the other, as not knowing who was the leader, or
whom he should address.

"All right," answered Logan. "You're very welcome. Stand your guns
there. You're as welcome under these trees as the birds--eh,
Forty-nine?"

But Forty-nine was now silent and thoughtful. He was still breathless,
and he only puffed and blowed his answer, and sat down on his keg again
with all his might.

"You must be hungry," said the girl kindly, approaching the men.

"Heaps of provisions," puffed Forty-nine, and again he half arose and
then sat down on his keg, tighter and harder, if possible, than before.

"Thank you, gents, thank you. It's hungry we are--eh, pard?"

"We'll have a spread right off," answered the good hearted Logan, now
spreading a rock, which served for a