Mary V's father dodged successfully the rock, saw a couple of sheets of
paper lying on the ground, and methodically picked them up before he
advanced to where his men were trying to appear very busy with the
horses, or with their ropes, or with anything save what had held their
attention just previous to his coming.

All save Johnny, who was too mad to care a rap what old Sudden Selmer
thought of him or did to him. He went straight up to the boss.

"I'll thank you for that paper," he said hardily. "It's mine, and the
boys have been acting the fool with it."

"Yeh? They have?" Selmer turned from the first page and read the second
without any apparent emotion. "You write that?"

Johnny flushed. "Yes, sir, I did. Do you mind letting--"

"That what I heard them yawping here in the corral?" Selmer folded the
paper with care, his fingers smoothing out the wrinkles and pausing to
observe the place where Mary V had torn off a corner.

"Poets and song birds on the pay roll, eh? Thought I hired you boys to
handle horses." Having folded the papers as though they were to be placed
in an envelope, Sudden held the verses out to Johnny. "As riders," he
observed judicially, "I know just about what you boys are worth to me. As
poets and singers, I doubt whether the Rolling R can find use for you.
What capacity do I find you in, Curley? Director of the orchestra, or
umpire?"

Curley climbed shamefacedly off the fence and picked up his rope. The