And it's as Lauman said; he'll hang them quite as dead as you
can. He's drawing a salary to do these things, make him earn
it. It's a nasty job, boys, and you wouldn't get anything out
of it but a nasty memory."

A hand that did not feel like the hand of a man rested for an
instant on his arm. Mona brushed by him and stepped out where
the rising moon shone on her hair and into her big, blue-gray
eyes.

"I wish you all would please go away," she said. "You are
making mamma sick. She's got it in her head that you are going
to do something awful, and I can't convince her you're not. I
told her you wouldn't do anything so sneaking, but she's awfully
nervous about it. Won't you please go, right now?"

They looked sheepishly at one another; every man of them feared
the ridicule of his neighbor.

"Why, sure we'll go," cried Park, rallying. "We were going
anyway in a minute. Tell your mother we were just
congratulating Lauman on rounding up these Wagners. Come on,
boys. And you, Bud, hurry up and get well again; we miss yuh
round the Lazy Eight."

The three who were sitting on Lauman got up, and he gave a sigh
of relief. "Say, yuh darned cowpunchers don't have no mercy on
an old man's carcass at all," he groaned, in exaggerated
self-pity. "Next time yuh want to congratulate me, I wish you'd
put it in writing and send it by mail."