“That’s it.  If I put you on that ranch, you’d stand off Loring’s outfit to the finish, I guess.”

“I sure would.”

“That’s why I want Sundown to take it up.  He’d let his worst enemy water sheep or cattle there.  He won’t fight, but he’s loyal enough to my interests to sue Loring for trespass, if necessary.”

“See you and raise you one, Jack.  They’ll bluff Sun clean off his hind feet.  He won’t stick.”

“I’ll chance it, Bud.  And, besides, I need you right where you are.”

“I’m sure happy!” exclaimed the irrepressible Bud, grinning.

Corliss laughed, then shook his head.  “I’ll tell you one thing,” he said, facing his foreman.  “I’ve been ’tending too many irons and some of ’em are getting cold.  I don’t want trouble with any one.  I’ve held off from Loring because—­oh—­because I had a good reason to say nothing.  Billy’s out of it again.  The coast is clear, and I’m going to give old man Loring the fight of his life.”

The whoop which Shoop let out startled the team into a lunging gallop.  “Go it, if you want to!” said Corliss as the buckboard swung around a turn and took the incline toward Antelope.  “I’m in a hurry myself.”

Nevertheless, he saved the team as they struck the level and held them to a trot.  “Wise old head,” was Shoop’s inward comment.  And then aloud:  “Say, Jack, I ain’t sayin’ I’m glad to see you get beat up, but that bing on the head sure got you started right.  The boys was commencin’ to wonder how long you’d stand it without gettin’ your back up.  She’s up.  I smell smoke.”

At Antelope, Shoop put up the horses.  Later he joined his employer and they had supper at the hotel.  Then they strolled out and down the street toward the sheriff’s home.  When they knocked at the door it was opened by a plump, dark-eyed woman who greeted them heartily.

“Come right in, boys.  Jim’s tendin’ the baby.”  And she took their hats.

They stepped to the adjoining room where Sheriff Jim sat on the floor, his coat off, while his youngest deputy, clad only in an abbreviated essential garnished with a safety-pin, sat opposite, gravely tearing up the evening paper and handing the pieces to his proud father, who stuffed the pieces in his pants pocket and cheerfully asked for more.

“Election?” queried Shoop.

“And all coming Jim’s way,” commented Corliss.

The baby paused in his balloting and solemnly surveyed the dusty strangers.  Then he pulled a piece of paper from his father’s pocket and offered it to Shoop.  “Wants me to vote, the little cuss!  Well, here goes.”  And, albeit unfamiliar with plump aborigines at close range, the foreman entered into the spirit of the game and cast his vote for the present incumbent, deputizing the “yearlin’” to handle the matter.  The yearling however, evidently thought it was time for a recount.  He gravitated to the perspiring candidate and, standing on his hands and feet,—­an attitude which seemingly caused him no inconvenience,—­reached in the ballot-box and pulling therefrom a handful of votes he cast them ceiling-ward with a shrill laugh, followed by an unintelligible spluttering as he sat down suddenly and began to pick up the scattered pieces of paper.