to say such things to those boys, Will," reproved
Mrs. Baldwin, as she watched them from the window. "It encourages them
to be wild, and land knows they don't need any encouragement."

"Shucks," returned the Dean, with that gentle note that was always in
his voice when he spoke to her. "If such talk as that can hurt 'em,
there ain't nothin' that could save 'em. You're always afraid somebody's
goin' to go bad. Look at me and Phil here," he added, as they in turn
pushed their chairs back from the table; "you've fussed enough over us
to spoil a dozen men, and ain't we been a credit to you all the time?"

At this they laughed together. But as Phil was leaving the house Mrs.
Baldwin stopped him at the door to say earnestly, "You will be careful
to-day, won't you, son? You know my other Phil--" She stopped and turned
away.

The young man knew that story--a story common to that land where the
lives of men are not infrequently offered a sacrifice to the untamed
strength of the life that in many forms they are daily called upon to
meet and master.

"Never mind, mother," he said gently. "I'll be all right." Then more
lightly he added, with his sunny smile, "If that big bay starts anything
with me, I'll climb the corral fence pronto."

Quietly, as one who faces a hard day's work, Phil went to the saddle
shed where he buckled on chaps and spurs. Then, after looking carefully
to stirrup leathers, cinch and latigos, he went on to the corrals, the
heavy saddle under his arm.

Curly and Bob, their horses saddled and ready, were making animated
targets of themselves for Little Billy, who, mounted on Sheep, a gentle
old cow-horse, was whirling a miniature riata. As the foreman appeared,
the cowboys dropped their fun, and, mounting, took the coils of their
own rawhide ropes in hand.

"Which one will you have first, Phil?" asked Curly, as he moved toward
the gate between the big corral and the smaller enclosure that held the
band of horses.

"That black one with the white star will do," directed Phil quietly.
Then to Little Billy: "You'd better get back there out of the way,
pardner. That black is liable to jump clear over you and Sheep."

"You better get outside, son," amended the Dean, who had come out to
watch the beginning of the work.

"No, no--please, Uncle Will," begged the lad. "They can't get me as long
as I'm on Sheep."

Phil and the Dean laughed.

"I'll look out for him," said the young man. "Only," he added to t