“That they can be happy and lay plans for their amusement when you are not there; eh, Gus?” said Ned. “I know right where the shoe pinches. Stay here, and we’ll make money by raising wheat. Do you see that field over there? That’s mine!” “I saw it some time ago,” answered Gus, “but I thought it was a pasture that somebody had fenced in. I see some cattle in it.” “In my wheat field!” cried Ned, with great indignation. “Where? So do I!” he added, after he had run his eye along the fence. Ned put his horse into a gallop and rode toward the field at the top of his speed, his companion following closely behind. As they drew nearer they saw that there was a wide gap in the fence, that the field looked as though somebody’s cattle had used it regularly for a pasture, and that some of the animals that had caused the mischief were in the enclosure now. As they drew rein at the gap and looked over the desolated field the cattle shook their heads as if they were indignant at the interruption, and went off toward the opposite fence in a gallop. “What wild-looking fellows!” exclaimed Gus. “I should think you would be afraid to go near them.” “They are wild, too,” replied Ned. “They’d just as soon go for us as not if we were on foot, but they’ll not trouble us so long as we are in the saddle. But just look at this wheat! It’s ruined, isn’t it?” “I am no farmer,” returned his companion. “It doesn’t need a farmer to tell whether or not there is any wheat here, does it?” cried Ned angrily. “Can’t you make the man who owns the cattle pay damages?” “No; you can’t collect a cent. That thing has been tried.” “Then shoot the cattle!” “I’d do it in a minute if I wasn’t afraid. You remember the story of that neighborhood row I told you last night, don’t you?” “Yes; and if I were in your place I’d raise another. There’s nobody in sight, and how is the owner of the cattle going to know who did the shooting? Knock one of ‘em over! I dare you to do it!” Ned hesitated. He had talked bravely enough, when in the presence of his cousin, about doing this very thing, but since that time he had seen a fight, had heard the reports of firearms and the yells of excited and angry men, and thought he had some faint conception of the scenes that had been enacted during that neighborhood row, and which would, no doubt, be repeated if another should arise. But here was his fine field of wheat so nearly destroyed that it would not pay for the harvesting; within easy rifle shot of him were some of the cattle which had done the mischief and which probably belonged to one of the neighbors who wouldn’t visit with him or his father because they wore good clothes and claimed to be gentlemen; and there was no one in sight. “Knock one of them over,” repeated Gus, “and perhaps it will teach their owner to keep his stock out of the way of your field, the next time you plant wheat in it. Hand me your gun, and I’ll show you that I am Gus Robbins yet, and not afraid to do anything.”