't put men to work on that fence they want built.
You tell me I can't lend 'em so much as a horse!"

Blake nodded. "I tell you that, and I emphasize it," he assured the
other, brushing off another half inch of ash from his cigar. "If you
want to help those boys hold their land, you must not move a finger."

"He's wiggling all of 'em!" accused the Kid sternly, and pointed to the
Old Man drumming irritatedly upon his chair arms. "He don't want to help
the boys, but I do. I'll help 'em get their cattle, Mr. Blake. I'm one
of the bunch anyway. I'll lend 'em my string."

"You've been told before not to butt in to grownup talk," his uncle
reproved him irascibly. "Now you cut it out. And take that string
off'n that cat!" he added harshly. "Dell! Come and look after this kid!
Doggone it, a man can't talk five minutes--"

The Kid giggled irrepressibly. "That's one on you, old man. You saw
Doctor Dell go away a long time ago. Think she can hear yuh when she's
away up on the bench?"

"You go on off and play!" commanded the Old Man. "I dunno what yuh want
to pester a feller to death for--and say! Take that string off'n that
cat!"

"Aw gwan! It ain't hurting the cat. She likes it." He lifted the kitten
and squeezed her till she yowled. "See? She said yes, she likes it."

The Old Man returned to the trials of the Happy Family, and the Kid
sat and listened, with the brindle kitten snuggled uncomfortably, head
downward in his arms.

The Kid had heard a good deal, lately, about the trials of his beloved
"bunch." About the "nesters" who brought cattle in to eat up the grass
that belonged to the cattle of the bunch. The Kid understood that
perfectly--since he had been raised in the atmosphere of range talk.
He had heard about the men building shacks on the claims of the Happy
Family--he understood that also; for he had seen the shacks himself,
and he had seen where there had been slid down hill into the bottom of
Antelope Coulee. He knew all about the attack on Patsy's cabin and
how the Happy Family had been fooled, and the cattle driven off and
scattered. The breaks--he was a bit hazy upon the subject of breaks. He
had heard about them all his life. The stock got amongst them and had to
be hunted out. He thought--as nearly as could be put in words--that it
must be a place where all the brakes grow that are used on wagons and
buggies. These were of wood, therefore they must grow somewhere. They
grew where the Happy Family went so