to hold. They'd keep 'em in some hid-up pasture. But sometimes the
people prods the sheriffs to get a move on, or Uncle Sam sends pony
soldiers to play hell with the sovereign rights of them holy western
states. Then the robbers is apt to scatter down in store clothes, for a
drunk at 'Frisco. This time I seen in the papers that Uncle Sam is
rounding up his robbers, so naturally the pick of their stealings
requires hiding. They'd drive north for the British possessions, but on
the plains there's too much mounted police, whereas this British
Columbia has one district constable to a district the size of the old
country. Yes, they'd come to this province, and this here ranch of ours
is a sort of North Pole to the stock range. Since old man Ponder quit
out, and I squatted, only the neighbors know that the ranch is claimed.

"Now, Kate," his great strong arm closed round me like a vise. "The hull
country knows you're clear grit, so there's no shame in leaving. For my
sake, dear--"

"Do you think I'd leave you in danger?"

He sighed. "I knew it. I cayn't help it, and, Kate, it's the truth, I'd
rather see you dead than scared. There's Madam Grizzly, and Senora
Cougar, there's Lady Elk, and even Mrs. Polecat, brave as lions. I'd
hate to have my mate the only one to run like a scalded cat."

"The program, Jesse?"

"Do you remember, Kate, how we lost five dollars finding out that Dale
and me is signalers?"

"And Captain Taylor gave us the signals to raise the district: one fire
for feasts, two for help, three for war!"

"That's it, little woman. By dusk I'll be on top of the cliffs, and make
my fires back from the rim-rock, where them robbers won't see the
glare."

CHAPTER VII

THE ROUND-UP

_Jesse's Narrative_

While I made signal fires on the top of the cliff, Mr. Robber came to
find out from my wife why for I hadn't called to leave my card at the
South Cave. He's picturesque, says she, hair like a raven's wing, eyes
steel-blue, scarf indigo striped with orange, shirt black silk, woolly
shaps out of a Wild West show, gold and silver fixings, Cheyenne saddle,
carbine of some foreign breed, or maybe a Krag, manners fit for a king,
age thirty-four, height six feet two inches, chest only thirty-eight,
and such a sad smile--all of this will be useful to the police.

He tried all he knew to get out of being photographed, which I wisht I'd
been there, for it must have been plumb comic, but we all submits when
K