One of the cowboys, wiping the dust and sweat from his face, with his big, red silk handkerchief, or, rather, neckerchief, started this song. It was taken up by half a score of loud voices. "Yi-yippy!" came in stentorian tones from Yellin' Kid. "This is the life!" But as, just then, his pony slipped and he missed the throw he made for a calf, it is doubtful if Yellin' Kid felt as gay as he sounded. "Hot work; eh, boys?" asked Mr. Merkel, when Dick, Nort and Bud rode past to get drinks of water. "But it's great, all the same!" answered Dick, with shining eyes--eyes that gleamed amid a face dark with the tan of the western sun and grimy with the dust of the western plains. "Glad you like it!" commented the proprietor of Diamond X as he kept on with his tallying. "How they coming, Slim?" he asked his foreman. "Couldn't be better! Old Buck Tooth is doing a heap sight more than I ever dreamed a Zuni could." "Bud said that his old Indian helper was up to snuff!" commented Mr. Merkel. "I'm glad to know it. Heard anything from Double Z?" he asked, and there was an anxious note in his voice. "No, Hank and his gang seem to have quieted down after what I told 'em!" "Well, I hope he doesn't make trouble for Bud and the boys. They're going back to Happy Valley to-night." "So I understand. Oh, shucks! Don't worry about Hank! He's all talk--he and that blustery foreman of his, Ike Johnson!" There had been a dispute between the cowboys of Diamond X and those of Double Z, a ranch owned by the notorious Hank Fisher, a few days before the round-up, the subject of dispute being the ownership of certain mavericks. It had ended with the triumph of Slim Degnan, foreman of Mr. Merkel's holdings. And so the round-up went on, the heat, the dust, the noise and confusion increasing as calf after calf, maverick after maverick, was branded, and the steers to be shipped were cut out, to be hazed over to the railroad stock yards. And yet, with all the seeming confusion, there was order and system in the work. "Well, I guess this is the last," remarked Mr. Merkel to his son, as Bud, with his cousins, rode slowly up to the ranch house, when the final calf had been cut out and the tally made. "You boys going back after grub?" "Yep," answered Bud, but there was no enthusiasm in his voice. He, like his cousins, was too tired. For the day had been a grueling one, with the heat and hard work. "You sure did make out a whole lot better than I ever thought you would," said Mr. Merkel, as he rode along with his son and nephew's. "Putting water into that valley made a big difference." "I should say so!" exclaimed Bud. "Our stock will lay over anything you will ship from any of your three ranches, Dad!" "I wouldn't wonder but what you are right, Bud! Well, let's wash up and eat."