little game. Let us get one of Landson's men with
the goods on him."

Y.D. was somewhat pacified by this suggestion. "You're a practical
devil, Transley," he said, with considerable admiration. "Now, in a case
of this kind I jus' get plumb fightin' mad. I want to bore somebody.
I guess it's the only kind o' procedure that comes easy to my hand. I
guess you're right, but I hate to let anybody have the laugh on me."
Y.D. looked down the valley, shading his eyes with his hand. "That
son-of-a-gun has got a dozen or more stacks down there. I don't wish
nobody any hard luck, but if some tenderfoot was to drop a cigar--"

"In that case I suppose you'd pray for a west wind, Dad," Zen suggested,
"but the winds in these valleys, even with your prayers to direct them,
are none too reliable."

"Everybody to work on fixing up these machines," Transley ordered.
"Linder, make a list of what repairs are needed and Drazk will ride to
town with it at once. Some of them may have to come out from the city by
express. Drazk can get the orders in and a team will follow to bring out
the repairs."

In a moment Transley's men were busy with wrenches and hammers,
replacing knives and appraising damages. Even in his anger Y.D. took
approving note of the promptness of Transley's decisions and the zest
with which his men carried them into effect.

"A he-man, that fellow, Zen," he confided to his daughter, "If he'd
blowed into this country thirty years ago, like I did, he'd own it by
this time plumb to the sky-line."

When the list of repairs was completed Linder handed it to Drazk.

"Beat it to town on that Pete-horse of yours, George," he said. "Burn
the grass on the road."

"I bet I'll be ten miles on the road back when I meet my shadow goin',"
said Drazk, making a spectacular leap into his saddle. "Bye, Y.D!; bye,
Zen!" he shouted while he whirled his horse's head eastward and waved
his hand to where they stood. In spite of her annoyance at him she had
to smile and return his salute.

"Mr. Drazk is irrepressible," she remarked to Transley.

"And irresponsible," the contractor returned. "I sometimes wonder why I
keep him. In fact, I don't really keep him; he just stays. Every spring
he hunts me up and fastens on. Still, I get a lot of good service out
of him. Praise 'that Pete-horse,' and George would ride his head off for
you. He has a weakness for wanting to marry every woman he sees, but his
infatuations seem harmless enough."