I rather imagine I would like a jolly good fight for a change."

"I don't want you to get hurt, kid," replied Bud, smiling at the other's
enthusiasm, "but I have an idea that I can use you somehow. Just stick
around for a day or two and I'll show you how to 'walk' sheep so your
eyes'll pop out."

"It's purely a matter of business with me," rejoined Lester. "Pictures of
seventy men at five dollars apiece, selling only one to each, will be
three hundred and fifty dollars. I think I'll stick."

"Suppose I get 'em all in one group so you can't take individuals, then
what will you do?"

"I'll make more money still," retorted the other promptly. "I'll sell
seventy copies of the same picture at five apiece and only have to do one
developing. What are you tryin' to do, kid me?"

Bud laughed and gave up the attempt to confuse the boy.

During the next two days Bud saw more sheep-walking than he had seen since
going into the business, and Lester amused himself profitably by taking
pictures of the embarrassed plainsmen, many of whom would not believe it
possible that an exact image of them could be reproduced in the twinkling
of an eye, but who were willing to pay the price if the feat were
accomplished.

When he had filled all his private orders, the picturesqueness of the life
and outfit with which he traveled so appealed to Lester that he made
nearly a hundred plates depicting the daily events of the drive and the
camp. And these hundred plates, three-quarters of which were excellent,
form by far the best collection of actual Western scenes of that time and
are still preserved in the old Larkin ranch house in Montana.

At the end of the two days the Gray Bull River was still twenty miles away
and would require an equal amount of time to be reached and crossed.
During this period Bud Larkin knew nothing whatever of the fate of Jimmie
Welsh and his companions, believing that they still held the repentant
cowmen captive, and that the punchers in pursuit were still searching the
bad lands for them--an almost endless task.

He was in a state of high good humor that his plans had carried out so
well, and looked forward with almost feverish impatience to the glorious
hour when the last of his bawling merinos should stand dripping, but safe,
on the other side of the Gray Bull. The nearer approach to the stream
brought a greater nervous tension and scouts at a five-mile radius rode
back and forth all day searching for any signs