ut as I find I can,
with some of the other cowpunchers, until they learn the ropes. There is
too great a responsibility on a night man to trust the boys alone with
that work now. But they can begin if they wish. I'll see first how the
bunch get back from their celebration of the glorious Fourth. You'll
come out and have supper with us?"

"No, I think not. We shall ride out just after supper, if you will have
some one to show us the way," answered the Professor.

"Sure, I'll send in Big-foot Sanders to pilot you out. You boys need not
be afraid of Big-foot. He's not half so savage as he looks, but he's a
great hand with cows."

Big-foot Sanders rode up to the hotel shortly after six o'clock. Leading
his pony across the sidewalk, he poked his shaggy head just inside the
door of the hotel.

"Ki-yi!" he bellowed, causing everybody within hearing of his voice to
start up in alarm. "Where's that bunch of tenderfeet?"

"Are you Mr. Sanders, from the Miller outfit?" asked the Professor,
stepping toward him.

"Donno about the Mister. I'm Big-foot Sanders. I'm lookin' for a bunch
of yearlings that's going on with the outfit."

"The young gentlemen will join you in a moment, Mr. Sanders. They will
ride their ponies around from the stable and meet you in front of the
house."

"You one of the bunch?"

"I am Professor Zepplin, a sort of companion, you know, for the young
men."

"Huh!" grunted Big-foot. "I reckon you'd better forget the hard boiled
hat you're wearin' or the boys'll be for shooting it full of holes. Take
my advice--drop it, pardner."

"Oh, you mean this," laughed the Professor, removing his derby hat.
"Thank you. I shall profit by your advice, and leave it here when I
start."

"All the bunch got hard boiled ones?"

"Oh, no. The boys have their sombreros," answered the Professor.

Big-foot grunted, but whether in disapproval or approval, Professor
Zepplin did not know. The cowpuncher threw himself into his saddle, on
which he sat, stolidly awaiting the arrival of the Pony Riders.

In a short time they came galloping from the stable at the rear of the
hotel, and pulled up, facing the cowman.

"This, Mr. Sanders, is Tad Butler," announced the Professor.

"Huh!" grunted Big-foot again. "Hello, Pinto!" he said after a sharp
glance into the freckled face. "Who's the gopher over there?"

"That's Stacy Brown, otherwise known as 'Chunky,'" laughed Tad. "This is
Ned Rector, and the young gentleman at your