"Just the man I wanted to see, Sandy," said his employer. "I want you to
meet these three young friends of mine."

As their names were spoken the boys stepped forward and shook hands
heartily.

"Mr. Clinch is one of the best foremen that ever rode the range or roped
a steer," went on Melton, "and what he don't know about a ranch isn't
worth knowing. I've got to go up to the house now to look over some
accounts and I'm going to leave you in his care. You remember, Sandy,
that little scrap in Mexico I told you about? Well, these are the boys
that stood at my back. They've got a knack for getting into a shindy on
the slightest provocation and I look to you to keep them out of trouble.
I warn you though that it is a man's job."

"I guess I'm up to it, boss," grinned Sandy. "There ain't much chance for
trouble round here, anyhow. There may be a look in if those ornery
rustlers don't quit fooling with our cattle. But just at this minute
things is plumb peaceful. I'm going up to the corral where the wranglers
are breaking in some of the young horses, and perhaps these young fellers
would like to come along."

Nothing possibly could suit them better, and while Mr. Melton retraced
his steps to the house they followed the foreman to the corral.

There everything was animation and apparent confusion. The clatter of
hoofs, the swish of lariats, the shouts of the "wranglers" as they
sought to bring their wayward charges under control, while a matter of
everyday routine to the cowboys themselves were entirely new to the boys,
who leaned against the log fence and watched the proceedings with