Just when Luck's new acquaintances first forgot to carry on their
whimsical pretense of knowing little of range matters, neither of them
could have told afterwards. They left town with the tacit understanding
between them that they were going to have some fun with the Happy Family
and with this likable little man of the movies. They rode out between
long lines of hated barbed wire stretched taut, and they lied
systematically and consistently to Luck Lindsay about themselves and
their fellows and their particular condition of servitude to fate.

But somewhere along the trail they forgot to carry on the deception; and
only Luck could have told why they forgot, and when they forgot, and how
it was that, ten miles or so out from town, the two were telling how the
Flying U had fought to save itself from extinction; how the "bunch" had
schemed and worked and had in a measure succeeded in turning aside the
tide of immigration from the Flying U range. Big issues they talked of as
they rode three abreast through the warm haze of early fall; and as they
talked, Luck's mind visioned the tale vividly, and his eyes swept the
fence-checkered upland with a sympathetic understanding.

"Right here," said Andy at last, when they came up to a gate set across
the trail, "right here is where we drawed the line--and held it. Now,
half of those shacks you see speckled around are empty. The rest hold
nesters too poor to get outa the country. One or two, that had a little
money, have stuck and gone into sheep. But from here on to Dry Creek
there's nothing ranging but the Flying U brand. Not much--compared to
what the old range used to be--but still it keeps things going. We
throwed a dam across the coulee, up there next the hills, and there's
some fair hay land we're putting water on. We have to winter-feed
practically everything these days. The range just nicely keeps the stock