discomfort. When men rode away at his command, it was with brows drawn
together and vengeful heels digging the short-ribs of horses in quite
as unlovely a mood as themselves.

Out at the end of the "circle," Chip divided the remainder of his men
into two groups for the homeward drive. One group he himself led. The
other owned Weary as temporary commander and galloped off to the left,
skirting close to the foothills of the Bear Paws. In that group rode
Pink and Happy Jack, Slim, Andy Green and Blink the silent.

"I betche we get a blizzard out uh this," gloomed Happy Jack, pulling
his coat collar up another fraction of an inch. "And the way Chip's
headed us, we got to cross that big flat going back in the thick of
it; chances is, we'll git lost."

No one made reply to this; it seemed scarcely worth while. Every man
of them rode humped away from the wind, his head drawn down as close
to his shoulders as might be. Conversation under those conditions was
not likely to become brisk.

"A fellow that'll punch cows for a living," Happy Jack asserted
venomously after a minute, "had ought to be shut up somewheres. He
sure ain't responsible. I betche next summer don't see me at it."

"Aw, shut up. We know you're feeble-minded, without you blatting it by
the hour," snapped Pink, showing never a dimple.

Happy Jack tugged again at his collar and made remarks, to which no
one paid the slightest attention. They rode in amongst the hills and
narrow ridges dividing "draws" as narrow, where range cattle would