rder, making about two hundred and fifty they had branded in three
hours. This number compared very favorably with that of the second
chute where Lanky Smith and Frenchy McAlister waved cold irons and
sarcastically asked their iron men if the sun was supposed to provide
the heat; whereat the down-trodden heaters provided heat with great
generosity in their caustic retorts.

"Oh, Susanna, don't you cry for me," sang Billy Williams, one of the
feeders. "But why in Jericho don't you fellers get a move on you? You
ain't no good on the platform--you ought to be mixing biscuits for
Cookie. Frenchy and Lanky are the boys to turn 'em out," he offered,
gratis.

Red's weary air bespoke a vast and settled contempt for such inanities
and his iron descended against the side of the victim below him--he
would not deign to reply. Not so with Johnny, who could not refrain from
hot retort.

"Don't be a fool _all_ the time," snapped Johnny. "Mind yore own
business, you shorthorn. Big-mouthed old woman, that's what--" his tone
dropped and the words sank into vague mutterings which a strangling
cough cut short. "Blasted idiot," he whispered, tears coming into his
eyes at the effort. Burning hair is bad for throat and temper alike.

Red deftly knocked his companion's iron up and spoke sharply. "You mind
yourn better--that makes the third you've tried to brand twice. Why
don't you look what yo're doing? Hot iron! Hot iron! What're you fellers
doing?" he shouted down at the heaters. "This ain't no time to go
to sleep. How d'ye expect us to do any work when you ain't doing any
yoreselves!" Red's temper was also on the ragged edge.

"You've got one in yore other hand, you sheep!" snorted one of the iron
heaters with restless pugnacity. "Go tearing into us when you--" he
growled the rest and kicked viciously at the fire.

"Lovely bunch," grinned Billy who, followed by Pete Wilson, mounted the
platform to relieve the branders. "Chase yoreselves--me an' Pete are
shore going to show you cranky bugs how to do a hundred an hour. Ain't
we, Pete? An' look here, you," he remarked to the heaters, "don't you
fellers keep _us_ waiting for hot irons!"

"That's right! Make a fool out of yoreself first thing!" snapped one of
the pair on the ground.

"Billy, I never loved you as much as I do this minute," grinned Johnny
wearily. "Wish you'd 'a' come along to show us how to do it an hour
ago."

"I would, only--"

"Quit chinning an' get busy," remark