"Well, The Orphan is working like a horse, and he likes it, too," he said. "You ought to hear him giving orders--he just asks a man to do a thing, don't order it done. When he talks it sounds like the puncher would be doing him the greatest possible favor to do the work he is paid to do, but there is a suggestion that if any nastiness develops, hell will be a peaceful place compared to the near vicinity of the foreman of the A-Y. He sizes up a thing with one look, and then tells how it should be done. Everything has gone off so fine that I'm going to ask you to lose a good man, and real soon, too. What do you say, Tom?" Blake laughed: "Why, we were a-plenty before he came and we'll be a-plenty after he goes. That's for your asking me to turn him over to you. The boys will be both sorry and glad to have him leave, because they like him a whole lot. But of course they want to see him land everything that he can, so they'll give him a good send-off. That reminds me to say that I know they will want to be on hand when you break the news to him. It'll be a circus for your Eastern friend, Miss Ritchie." "Now you're talking!" enthused the sheriff. "I want to have as many fireworks at the ceremony as I can possibly get. Oh, it'll be a great day, all right. We are all going out and take a bang-up lunch, just like we're going on that picnic that Bill's been so worried about, and Bill is going to drive the women over in his coach. The first surprise will be the announcement of the new ownership of the A-Y, and right on top of it I'm going to fire the second gun. I hope none of your boys know anything about it," he added with anxiety. "Not a thing," hastily replied the foreman. "You have your wife send a message to me by Joe when he rustles our mail to-morrow and ask us to come to the picnic at the A-Y on the day which you will decide on. They'll go, all right, no fear about that. Nothing more than your wife's cooking is needed to attract them," and he laughed heartily at how suddenly they would come to life at such a summons. Shields thought intently for a few seconds and then slapped his thigh: "I've got it!" he exulted. "I'll ride over to your place with you and write a letter to my wife telling her just what to do. Joe can deliver it and bring back the invitation. You see, I won't be home to-night, but that will do the trick, all right. Now, what do you say to this coming Saturday?--this is, let me see: Wednesday. Will that be time enough for you to make any arrangements you may want to make?" "Shore, plenty of time," Blake laughed. "It's good all the way. Joe will be delighted to have a real good excuse to call at your house. He's a bashful cuss, like all the rest. They talk big, but they're some bashful all the same. He's been worrying about it, for one day he came to me with a funny expression on his face and acted like he didn't know how to begin. So I asked him what was troubling him, and he blurted out like this, as near as I can remember: