Jack, with his foreboding
nature, to point out the unpleasant possibilities that night when the
committee of two made their informal report at the supper table.

They had ridden to Denson coulee, which was in reality a meandering
branch of Flying U coulee itself. To reach it one rode out of Flying
U coulee and over a wide hill, and down again to Denson's. But the
creek--Flying U creek--followed the devious turnings from Denson coulee
down to the Flying U. A long mile of Flying U coulee J. G. Whitmore
owned outright. Another mile he held under no other title save a fence.
The creek flowed through it all--but that creek had its source somewhere
up near the head of Denson coulee. J. G. Whitmore had, to his regret,
been unable to claim the whole earth--or at least that portion of
it--for his own; so, when he was constrained to make a choice, he
settled himself in the wider, more fertile coulee, which he thereafter
called the Flying U. While it is good policy to locate as near as
possible to the source of those erratic little creeks which water
certain garden spots of the northern range land, it is also well to
choose land that will grow plenty of hay. J. G. Whitmore chose the hay
land, and trusted that providence would insure the water supply. Through
all these years Flying U creek had never once disappointed him. Denson,
who settled in the tributary coulee, had not made any difference in the
water supply, and his stock had consisted of thirty or forty head of
cattle and horses.

When Denson sold, however, things might be different. And, if he had
sold to a sheepman, the change might be unpleasant If he had sold to
Dunk Whittaker--the Flying U boys faced that possibility just as they
would face any other disaster, undaunted, but grim and unsmiling.

It was thus that Pink and Weary rode slowly down into Denson coulee. Two
miles back they had passed the band of Dot sheep, feeding leisurely
just without the Flying U fence, which was the southern boundary. The
bug-killer and the other were there, and they noted that the features
of that other bore witness to the truth of Andy's story of the fight. He
regarded them with one perfectly good eye and one which was considerably
swollen, and grinned a swollen grin.

The two had ridden ten paces past him when Pink pulled up suddenly. "I'm
going to get off and lick that son-of-a-gun myself, just for luck," he
stated dispassionately. "I'm going to lick 'em both," he revised while
he