eyed and undignified, watching the outcome.

"Dell! What in thunder the YOU doing on that fence?" he shouted across
the corral.

"What in thunder are you doing on the fence, J. G. ?" she flung back at
him.

The Old Man climbed shamefacedly down, followed by the others. "Is that
what you call 'getting put in the clear'?" asked she, genially. "I see
now--it means clear on the top rail."

"You go back to the house and stay there!" commanded J. G., wrathfully.
The boys were showing unmistakable symptoms of mirth, and the laugh was
plainly against the Old Man.

"Oh, no," came her voice, honey-sweet and calm. "Shoo that cow this way
again, will you, Mr. .Weary? I like to watch J. G. shin up the fence.
It's good for him; it makes one supple, and J. G.'s actually getting
fat."

"Hurry along with that calf!" shouted the Old Man, recovering the
branding iron and turning his back on his tormentor.

The boys, beyond grinning furtively at one another, behaved with quite
praiseworthy gravity. Miss Whitmore watched while Weary dragged a
spotted calf up to the fire and the boys threw it to the ground and
held it until the Old Man had stamped it artistically with a smoking U.

"Oh, J. G.!"