"Well, I know!" roared the old man. "If you can't take my advice an' put this here thing off till after dark you kin take the consequences. Anybody's likely to ride along here, an' I'd like to know what kind of a yarn you'd have to tell!" "Now you know them calves 're yourn," drawled Shorty Smith, in an aggravating tone, as he climbed up and seated himself on the top pole of the corral. "You know them 're yourn, every blame one, an' their mothers 're back in the hills there!" "Your cows all had twins, so you picked out these here ones to wean 'em, if anybody should ask," said Long Bill, continuing the sport. The old man uttered a string of oaths. "Not much you don't pan 'em off onto me!" he exclaimed. "My cows ain't havin' twins this year!" "Some of Harris' has got triplets," mused Shorty Smith, at which Long Bill laughed, exclaiming: "Been lary ever since them stock-inspectors was up here last fall, ain't you? Before that some o' your cows had a half a dozen calves. I should 'a' thought you had more grit'n that, Peter!" The old man cursed some more. Shorty Smith jumped down from his high perch and fetched a long, slender rod of iron from between two logs of the cow-shed. "Might as well git down to business," he said as he threw the branding iron on the ground beside the symmetrical pyramid of fire-wood, which he proceeded to ignite. "Let up, old man," growled Long Bill, "I'll take the blame o' the whole concern an' you ken rake in your share in the fall without any interference whatsomever." "Don't git scared, Peter, you ain't got long to live on this here planet, nohow, so you can finish your days in peace. If there's any time to be served we'll do it for you," drawled Shorty. "That's what I call a mighty generous proposition," remarked Long Bill, as he coiled up his rope. "We'll just git the orniments on these innocent creatures an' shut 'em up in the shed fer a spell." "Yes, yes! Git the job over with if you ain't goin' to wait till after sundown," exclaimed old Peter nervously. They set to work at once, roping, throwing, and putting a running brand on the frightened calves. As each one was finished to the satisfaction of the operator it was put into the cow-shed nearby--a rude sort of stable, where it was turned loose and the door securely fastened on the outside with a large wooden peg. They had been working industriously for perhaps half an hour when old Peter glanced up from the calf upon which he was sitting and encountered Hope Hathaway's quiet eyes watching them interestedly. She stood beside the cow-shed but a few feet away, and held her horse by the bridle. "Good God!" screamed the old man, nearly losing his balance. "Where did you come from?" The other men, whose backs were toward her, glanced about quickly, then proceeded in well assumed unconcern with the work upon which they were engaged. "I hope I'm not intruding," said the girl.