ply, and after waiting for a minute he and Waffles went
into the rear room, from which there immediately issued great chunks
of profanity and noise. They returned looking pugnacious and disgusted,
with a wildly fighting man who was more full of liquor than was the
bottle which he belligerently waved.

"This here animated distillery what yu sees is our cook," said Waffles.
"We eats his grub, nobody else. If he gits drunk that's our funeral; but
he won't get drunk! If yu wants us to punch for yu say so an' we does;
if yu don't, we don't."

"Well," replied Buck thoughtfully, "mebby I can use yu." Then with a
burst of recklessness he added, "Yes, if I lose my job! But yu might
sober that Mexican up if yu let him fall in th' horse trough."

As the procession wended its way on its mission of wet charity, carrying
the cook in any manner at all, Frenchy waved his long lost sombrero
at Buck, who stood in the door, and shouted, "Yu old son-of-a-gun, I'm
proud to know yu!"

Buck smiled and snapped his watch shut "Time to amble," he said.

CHAPTER XI. Holding the Claim

"Oh, we're that gang from th' O-Bar-O," hummed Waffles, sinking the
branding-iron in the flank of a calf. The scene was one of great
activity and hilarity. Several fires were burning near the huge corral
and in them half a dozen irons were getting hot. Three calves were being
held down for the brand of the "Bar-20" and two more were being dragged
up on their sides by the ropes of the cowboys, the proud cow-ponies
showing off their accomplishments at the expense of the calves'
feelings. In the corral the dust arose in steady clouds as calf after
calf was "cut out" by the ropers and dragged out to get "tagged." Angry
cows fought valiantly for their terrorized offspring, but always to no
avail, for the hated rope of some perspiring and dust-grimed rider sent
them crashing to earth. Over the plain were herds of cattle and groups
of madly riding cowboys, and two cook wagons were stalled a short
distance from the corral. The round-up of the Bar-20 was taking place,
and each of the two outfits tried to outdo the other and each individual
strove for a prize. The man who cut out and dragged to the fire the most
calves in three days could leave for the Black Hills at the expiration
of that time, the rest to follow as soon as they could.

In this contest Hopalong Cassidy led his nearest rival, Red Connors,
both of whom were Bar-20 men, by twenty cut-outs, and ther