hers--he himself
had a set of rattles in his shap pocket that were not two hours from
the stump. The situation called for diplomacy.

"Well," he drawled, scratching his bushy head to cover his confusion,
"this reflects great credit on your bringin' up, Jim, and I'm sure
Miss Bonnair will appreciate what you've done for her, especially
as I happened to notice a couple o' head of your own cows in that
bunch, but it's a mighty expensive way to collect snake-tails. We
ain't gittin' the cattle, boys; that's the size of it, and they're as
much yours as they are mine. Now I suggest that we run these few
we've got down to the corral and brand 'em quick--and then the whole
shootin'-match goes over to the big white cliff and rounds up every
rattlesnake in the rock pile! Is it a go?"

"Sure!" yelled the bunch impetuously, and as they charged down upon
the herd Creede quietly fished out his snake-tail and dropped it in
the dirt.

If he lacked a virtue he could feign it, anyhow--but there was no
doubt about it, Miss Kitty was putting his _rodeo_ on the bum. There
had never been so many men to feed and so few calves to brand in the
history of Hidden Water. Even old Bill Johnson had got the fever from
hearing the boys talk and was hanging around the fire. But then, what
were a few head of cows compared to--well, what was it, anyway? The
only man who could stay away was Rufe, and he was in good company.

Yet Creede was not satisfied with this explanation. Miss Kitty was
always asking questions about Rufe--they had known each other well in
Berkeley--and at the same time the little partner with whom he had
been so friendly never came around any more. He was always very
polite, and she called him by his first name--and then one of them
rode up the river and the other followed the round-up.

The night after the big snake-killing Jefferson Creede picked up his
blankets and moved quietly back to the _ramada_ with Hardy.

"Them locoed punchers have been skinnin' rattlers and stretchin' their
hides," he said, "until the camp stinks like a buzzard roost. I'm due
to have some bad dreams to-night anyhow, on the strength of this
snake-killin', but it'd give me the jumpin' jimjams if I had to sleep
next to them remains. Didn't git back in time to join in, did ye?
Well, no great loss. I always did intend to clean out that snake hole
over'n the cliff, and the boys was stoppin' every time they heard one
sing, anyhow, in order to git the rattles