had grown enthusiastic.

He pulled up in a certain place near the brow of the hill, and looked
down into the narrower gulch where huddled the shacks they had moved. He
grinned at the sight. His hand went involuntarily to his pocket and the
grin widened. He hurried on that he might the sooner tell the boys of
their good luck; all the material for that line fence bought and paid
for--there would certainly laugh when they heard where the money had
come from!

First he thought that he would locate the cattle and tell his news to
the boys on guard. He therefore left the trail and rode up on a ridge
from which he could overlook the whole benchland, with the exception of
certain gulches that cut through. The sky was reddening now, save where
banked clouds turned purple. A breeze crept over the grass and carried
the fresh odor of rain. Close beside him a little brown bird chittered
briskly and flew away into the dawn.

He looked away to where the Bear Paws humped, blue-black against the
sky, the top of Old Baldy blushing faintly under the first sun rays. He
looked past Wolf Butte, where the land was blackened with outcroppings
of rock. His eyes came back leisurely to the claim country. A faint
surprise widened his lids, and he turned and sent a glance sweeping to
the right, toward Flying U Coulee. He frowned, and studied the bench
land carefully.

This was daybreak, when the cattle should be getting out for their
breakfast-feed. They should be scattered along the level just before
him. And there were no cattle anywhere in sight. Neither were there any
riders in sight. Irish gave a puzzled grunt and turned in his saddle,
looking back toward Dry Lake. That way, the land was more broken, and
he could not see so far. But as far as he could see there were no cattle
that way either. Last night when he rode to town the cattle of the
colonists had been feeding on the long slope three or four miles from
where he stood, across Antelope Coulee where he had helped the boys
drive them.

He did not waste many minutes studying the empty prairie from the
vantage point of that ridge, however. The keynote of Irish's nature
was action. He sent his horse down the southern slope to the level, and
began looking for tracks, which is the range man's guide-book. He was
not long in finding a broad trail, in the grass where cattle had lately
crossed the coulee from the west. He knew what that meant, and he swore
when he saw how the trail pointed st