called his Jay-Eye-See brand. Well, that settled it. I'm an honest man, but when a man steals cows from me I don't know any way to break even in this country but to steal back, and while he was putting his J's on my IC critters I jumped in and put IC2's on his U's until he was ready to quit. He's _afraid_ to burn my brand now—he dassent do it—and so he's beginnin' to squeal because I've got 'im in the door; but say—" he beckoned with his head—"come over here by the corral, I want to talk to you." Throughout this long tale of woe Pecos Dalhart had shown but scant interest, having heard it already, with variations, from Babe. According to that faithless individual Old Crit would steal fleas from a pet monkey and skin them for the hide and tallow; his favorite pastime, outside of cattle-rustling, being to take on cowboys and then hold out their pay, a rumor which caused Pecos Dalhart to regard him warily. "Now say," began the Boss of Verde Crossing, as soon as they were out of hearing, "you don't need to go to that hoss-thief Upton in order to git a job. I'm always lookin' for the right kind of man, myself. Have you had any experience at this kind of thing?" He went through the dexterous pantomime of burning a brand through a blanket, but the cowboy only turned away scornfully. "If I had I'd never be dam' fool enough to talk about it," he said. "Oho!" observed Crit, rubbing the side of his nose slyly, "you're travelling for your health, are you?" "No!" snarled the Texan. "The only people that are lookin' for me are tryin' to keep away from me, so you don't need to work that auger any deeper. Now, Mr. Crittenden, I'm a man of few words—what can I do for you?" "We-ell," began the cowman, and once more he paused to meditate. "Since you inquire," continued the cowboy, "I don't mind tellin' you that I'm travellin' for excitement—and to grab some money. If you've got any proposition that might appeal to me, spit it out—if not, they's no harm done." "Well, wait a minute!" cried Old Crit, peevishly. "My time's valuable," observed Pecos, sententiously. "You can trust me as good as I can trust you—mebby better. I don't hear nobody accuse you of being sure pay, but if I take your job I want you to remember that I draw my money at the end of every month or else I collect and quit. Now if you can jar that proposition out of your system, I'll listen to it." "I guess you'll do," said the cowman, as if quieting his own misgivings. "I've got a little special work that I want done on the quiet, markin' over some cows and calves. The man that does it will have to hide out up in that rough country and I'll pay him—forty dollars." "Eighty," said the Texan. "W'y, I'm only payin' my round-up hands thirty," protested Crittenden, weakly; "I'll give you fifty, though." "Eighty, cash," said the cowboy. "You'll make that on the first ten calves." "Sixty!" pleaded Crit.