“This here _Pinus Contorta_ (sounds like Julius Seizher only it ain’t) is the boy that will bust her quick, Siddy boy,” he laughed, rolling up his sleeves and baring a forearm like a lean ham. “You give a leetle feller like me elbowroom!” He took a full ax in one fist and smote a tree with it like chopping with a hatchet. About two judgmatical cuts sufficed to send it crashing down, whereat the giant cowman started after another. Sid saw that he would have his hands full just trimming the felled ones so he went for their boughs with his small ax. “You cut off them tops whar’ there’s somethin’ substantial to it, Sid,” rang out Big John’s voice from the timber as he sent another pine tumbling about the youth’s ears. “Remember that I weigh a pound or two more’n a straw hat, son!” “Help me put up this first one, now, John, she’s ready,” announced Sid, struggling to lift the trunk clear of the underbrush. Big John came over and heaved the whole tree unceremoniously up on his shoulder. With Sid guiding the lean end they made for the cliff. Pushing and panting they up-ended it and stood it ladderwise in a vertical fissure which gave on a ledge above. Sid swarmed up the short branch stubs, climbed out on the ledge, and waved his arms down to Big John below. “Looks like one of us’d have to shinny up and haul the next one with a lariat,” he called down. “Son, I got an idee--ef she don’t get away while I’m picketin’ her down,” said Big John. “You git up thar and hang my lariat honda over that point of rock, sabe, an’ then we’ll run yore lariat through the honda and snake up the next pole by one of the hosses.” He got both lariats up from camp while Sid waited. Presently he returned, to cast it up with the sure whirling pitch of the born rope artist. Sid snatched it in and hauled his own up by the end of the other. Then he coiled both, attached them to his belt and started up the next cleft. The very pockets in the rock where feet of the ancient log ladders used to rest were easy to pick out as he climbed. What men had done a man could do! By the time he had everything fixed and the honda, or brass eye of the lariat, hung with the other rove through it, Big John was below with a horse and a fresh pole. It came snaking up as the cowman led the horse away, hauling on the lower end by the lariat tied to a cinch strap above the pony’s back. Sid set the pole and climbed higher to the next ledge so that they could repeat the maneuver with a third pole. This was the limit for that horse-hoisting stunt, however, for he was now up over eighty feet and there was not rope enough in camp to double through the next honda. Big John yelled up as he tied on the fourth pole and then he led the horse back to graze again.