“You’ve got one in yore other hand, you sheep!” snorted one of the iron heaters with restless pugnacity.  “Go tearing into us when you—­” he growled the rest and kicked viciously at the fire.

“Lovely bunch,” grinned Billy who, followed by Pete Wilson, mounted the platform to relieve the branders.  “Chase yoreselves—­me an’ Pete are shore going to show you cranky bugs how to do a hundred an hour.  Ain’t we, Pete?  An’ look here, you,” he remarked to the heaters, “don’t you fellers keep us waiting for hot irons!”

“That’s right!  Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!” snapped one of the pair on the ground.

“Billy, I never loved you as much as I do this minute,” grinned Johnny wearily.  “Wish you’d ‘a’ come along to show us how to do it an hour ago.”

“I would, only—­”

“Quit chinning an’ get busy,” remarked Red, climbing down.  “The chute’s full; an’ it’s all yourn.”

Billy caught the iron, gave it a preliminary flourish, and started to work with a speed that would not endure for long.  He branded five out of the eight and jeered at his companion for being so slow.

“Have yore fun now, Billy,” Pete replied with placid good nature.  “Before we’re through with this job you’ll be lucky if you can do two of the string, if you keep up that pace.”

“He’ll be missing every other one,” growled his heater with overflowing malice.  “That iron ain’t cold, you Chinaman!”

“Too cold for me—­don’t miss none,” chuckled Billy sweetly.  “Fill the chute!  Fill the chute!  Don’t keep us waiting!” he cried to the guiders, hopping around with feigned eagerness and impatience.

Hopalong Cassidy rode up and stopped as Red returned to take the place of one of the iron heaters.  “How they coming, Red?” he inquired.

“Fast.  You can sic that inspector on ’em the first thing to-morrow morning, if he gets here on time.  Bet he’s off som’ers getting full of redeye.  Who’re going with you on this drive?”

“The inspector is all right—­he’s here now an’ is going to spend the night with us so as to be on hand the first thing to-morrow,” replied Hopalong, grinning at the hard-working pair on the platform.  “Why, I reckon I’ll take you, Johnny, Lanky, Billy, Pete, an’ Skinny, an’ we’ll have two hoss-wranglers an’ a cook, of course.  We’ll drive up the right-hand trail through West Valley this time.  It’s longer, but there’ll be more water that way at this time of the year.  Besides, I don’t want no more foot-sore cattle to nurse along.  Even the West Valley trail will be dry enough before we strike Bennett’s Creek.”

“Yes; we’ll have to drive ’em purty hard till we reach the creek,” replied Red, thoughtfully.  “Say; we’re going to have three thousand of the finest three-year-old steers ever sent north out of these parts.  An’ we ought to do it in a month an’ deliver ’em fat an’ frisky.  We can feed ’em good for the last week.”