CHAPTER II.
Over the "Hog's Back."



"That's Flying U ranch," volunteered Chip, as they turned sharply to
the right and began to descend a long grade built into the side of a
steep, rocky bluff. Below them lay the ranch in a long, narrow coulee.
Nearest them sprawled the house, low, white and roomy, with broad
porches and wide windows; further down the coulee, at the base of a
gentle slope, were the sheds, the high, round corrals and the haystacks.
Great, board gates were distributed in seemingly useless profusion,
while barbed wire fences stretched away in all directions. A small
creek, bordered with cottonwoods and scraggly willows, wound aimlessly
away down the coulee.

"J. G. doesn't seem to have much method," remarked Miss Whitmore,
after a critical survey. "What are all those log cabins scattered
down the hill for? They look as though J. G. had a handful that he
didn't want, and just threw them down toward the stable and left them
lying where they happened to fall."

"It does, all right," conceded Chip. "They're the bunk house--where
us fellows sleep--and the mess house, where we eat, and then come the