“Not for your tellin'. You keep back, young feller, or I'll sick the dogs on yuh.” He turned and whistled to the nearest one, and Andy hit him on the ear. They clinched and pummeled when they could and where they could. The dog came up, circled the gyrating forms twice, then sat down upon his haunches at a safe distance, tilted his head sidewise and lifted his ears interestedly. He was a wise little dog; the other dog was also wise, and remained phlegmatically at his post, as did the bug-killer. “Are you going to turn them sheep?” Andy spoke breathlessly, but with deadly significance. “N-yes.” Andy took his fingers from the other's Adam's apple, his knee from the other's diaphragm, and went over to where he had thrown down his coat, felt in a pocket for his handkerchief, and, when he had found it, applied it to his nose, which was bleeding profusely. “Fly at it, then,” he advised, eyeing the other sternly over the handkerchief. “I'd hate to ask you a third time.” “I'd hate to have yuh,” conceded the herder reluctantly. “I was sure I c'd lick yuh, or I'd 'a' turned 'em before.” He sent the dog racing down the south line of the band. Andy got thoughtfully back upon his horse, and sat looking hard at the herder. “Say, you're grade above the general run uh lamb-hickers,” he observed, after a minute. “Who are you working for, and what's your object in throwing sheep on Flying U land? There's plenty of range to the north.” “I'm workin',” said the herder, “for the Dot outfit. I thought you could read brands.” “Don't get sassy--I've got a punch or two I haven't used yet. Who owns these woollies?” “Well--Whittaker and Oleson, if yuh want to know.” “I do.” Andy was keeping pace with him around the band, which edged off from then and the dogs. “And what makes you so crazy about Flying U grass?” he pursued. “We've got to cross that coulee to git to where we're headed for; we got a right to, and we're going to do it.” The herder paused and glanced up at Andy sourly. “We knowed you was a mean outfit; the boss told us so. And he told us you was blank ca'tridges and we needn't back up just 'cause you raised up on your hind legs and howled a little. I've had truck with you cowmen before. I've herded sheep in Wyoming.” He walked a few steps with his head down, considering. “I better go over and talk some sense into the other fellow,” he said, looking up at Andy as if all his antagonism had oozed in the fight. “You ride along this edge, so they won't scatter--we ought to be grazin' 'em along, by rights; only you seem to be in such an all-fired rush--” “You go on and tell that loco son-of-a-gun over there what he's up against,” Andy urged. “Blank cartridges--I sure do like that! If you only knew it, high power dum-dums would be a lot closer to our brand. Run along--I am in a kinda hurry, this morning.”