"Shore. An' throw 'em together, an' bed down on Clear River, so we can get a two-hour jump-off in th' mornin'. Is th' Double X holdin' its bunch in th' same old place?" "I reckon so," replied Big Tom, and soon they passed the Triangle ranchhouse, where Hank Lewis rode forth to join them. "Get yore boys, Lewis," shouted the trail boss. "We'll count that herd right away." "They're with it now," replied Lewis, as he drew nearer. "Glad you brought some of yore boys along--I'm short-handed for quick work." It was not long before they reached the herd and it was slowly crowded into a more compact mass, and became wedge-shaped. McCullough, one of his men, and the two foremen stopped before the point, the trail boss and Huff on one side, the others not far away and facing them. The herd started slowly forward, narrowing to an animated ribbon which flowed between the two pairs of counters and kept them busy. McCullough and Lewis counted on knotted strings fastened to their pommels, Huff used his fingers to check off the tally, fifty head to each digit, while the fourth man threw a coil of his rope over the pommel of his saddle at each hundred. The counting was finished well under ten minutes and the results compared. Lewis said five hundred and five, the other three announcing five hundred and six. The Triangle foreman laughed. "Here is where I get paid for a missin' cow." "Three to one bein' good enough for me," replied the trail boss, grinning, "I says you do. It's worth that to see you again; an' what's a cow between friends?" He turned in his saddle. "You might move 'em up closer to th' trail, boys," he shouted, and added with a chuckle, "they'll disappear when my long-laigs come along." His prediction was justified, for the long-legs, having run the last mile or two with the scent of water in their red nostrils, poured into the creek and soaked themselves inside and out. By the time McCullough and his group reached the scene, the Bar H herd was crossing the trail. The counting was gone over again, the tallies agreeing to a single cow, and the Bar H herd was allowed to join the strangers along the creek. In due time the enlarged herd was thrown back on the trail, and when the Triangle five hundred joined it they were, indeed, swallowed up. The trail boss and Big Tom rode off to the Triangle ranchhouse, figured for a moment and then exchanged cash for a receipt. The foreman shoved the bills into his pockets and went with McCullough back to the herd, picked up the squad, and had the Double X contingent counted before the trail herd reached the river.