irons! I want 'em run out, do you hear? They're blackguards! I want
a man that's a man; and, for pay, you can name your own price. I'll
want a partner as I grow older. And don't you do any fool rash thing
that I'll have to fight and down you for! I like _you_, Wayland--"

Then three things happened instantaneously. Wayland glanced up.
Eleanor MacDonald was looking straight into his eyes. And the sheep
rancher's choppy voice was saying to the Missionary, "Some men go up in
the mountains to fish for trout; but others stay right down in the
Valley and grow rich catching suckers."

"We can't cross that gully," shouted the boy. "We, can't cross it
nohow! We got to cross the ranch trail to go up to them Rim Rocks."

"Why, all right, Fordie," the Senator rose, kicking the folds from the
knees of his trousers, "if you boss the job, Fordie, I'll let you cross
the ranch! You'll take a few of the herders up with you? And you'll
not let the sheep spread over the fields? Better do it towards evening
when it's cool for the climb! All right, we'll call that a bargain!
Fordie's on the job to pass the sheep up the trail; and just to show
you I'm fair, here is Miss Eleanor for my witness, you can drive the
whole bunch over my ranch! Good night, all! Everybody coming now?
Come on! We'll lead the way, Miss Eleanor. It's getting dark. I'll
pad the fall if anybody behind trips. Good night, Wayland; think that
offer of mine over? Not coming, Brydges? All right, give Wayland a
piece of your mind, as a newspaper man, about this business! Night!
Good night, Calamity!"