it the way you do. But, Merritt," he added, "this is
how. A piece down the road, say a mile an' a half, I'm told there's a
rotten bit o' road, an' I'm a little leery of trouble there. I'd have
strung out the cattle three times as far if I'd known of it. But I had
no chance; I've only just heard that some old county board is tryin' to
fix a bridge, an' they're movin' about as rapid as a spavined mule with
three broken legs."

"Well?" queried Merritt; "I suppose you want us to help you over that
spot."

"That's it, pard," said the foreman; "an' I'll do as much for you some
time."

"I wish you could, but I'll never have a string of cattle like those to
turn into good hard coin."

"Well," said the cowpuncher, "why not?"

"Nothing doing," replied Merritt; "the Forest Service is an incurable
disease that nobody ever wants to be cured of."

By this time the head of the bunch of steers was drawing close and the
foreman repeated his request.

"All right," answered the Forester, who thought it good policy to have
the ranchman feel that he was under obligations to the Service, "we'll
give you a hand all right."

After riding down the road for about a mile it became precipitous, and
Wilbur could readily see where there was likely to be trouble. Shortly
before they reached the place where the bridge was being repaired the
bank on the right-hand side of the road gave place to a sheer drop forty
to fifty feet high and deepening with every step forward. As the bunch
neared the bridge Merritt and Wilbur, with the cowpunchers, slowed up
until the steers were quite close. Then Grier and Rodgers went ahead
over the bridge, while Merritt waited until about fifty cattle had
passed and then swung in among them, telling Wilbur to do the same when
about another fifty head had passed.

At first Wilbur could not see the purpose of this, and he had great
difficulty in forcing his horse among the cattle. But they pressed back
as he swung into the road, giving him a little space to ride in, and
thus dividing the head of the drove into two groups of fifty. Following
instructions, Wilbur gradually pressed the pace of the bunch in order to
prevent any chance of overcrowding from the rear.

It seemed easy enough. Owing to the narrowness of the road and the
precipitous slope it was impossible for the steers to scatter, and as
long as the pace was kept up, there was likely to be no difficulty. But
Kit--Wilbur was riding Kit--suddenly pricked