think I'LL stand for it."

"Aw, don't get nervous. There ain't power enough on the ranch t'
pull yuh clear of the ground. We ain't going to build no derrick,"
said Jack, witheringly. "We'll have a dummy rigged up in the bunk
house. When Chip and the doctor heave in sight on top of the grade,
we'll break loose down here with our bronks and our guns, and smoke
up the ranch in style. We'll drag out Mr. Strawman, and lynch him
to the big gate before they get along. We'll be 'riddling him with
bullets' when they arrive--and by that time she'll be so rattled she
won't know whether it's a man or a mule we've got strung up."

"You'll have to cut down your victim before I get there," grinned Chip.
"I never could get the creams through the gate, with a man hung to the
frame; they'd spill us into the washout by the old shed, sure as fate."

"That'd be all right. The old maid would sure know she was out West--
we need something to add to the excitement, anyway."

"If the Old Man's new buggy is piled in a heap, you'll wish you had cut
out some of the excitement," retorted Chip.

"All right, Splinter. We won't hang him there at all. That old
cottonwood down by the creek would do fine. It'll curdle her blood
like Dutch cheese to see us marching him down there--and she can't
see the hay sticking out of his sleeves, that far off."

"What if she wants to hold an autopsy?" bantered Chip.

"By golly, we'll stake her to a hay knife and tell her to go after him!"