him. You think Dibert's all
right, do you?"

"Well," Bowers replied judicially, "he's one of these fellers that would
fight like hell fer his sheep one day, and the next, if you brought him
prunes instead of the aprycots he'd ordered, he'd turn 'em loose to the
coyotes to git hunks with you. He's all right, only he's crazy."

Kate shrugged a shoulder.

"Is there much water-hemlock in the gulch this summer?"

"Quite a bit of it--it's spreadin'. Neifkins has lost several sheep
a'ready by poison, but it's careless herdin'."

"I should own that section," Kate commented. "It's public land. I could
have it put up at auction and buy it in, but I suppose they'd run the
price up on me just to make me pay for it. How are Svenson's lambs
doing?"

"They're so fat they can't play--and Woods's got twenty-five hundred of
the best wethers that ever blatted!"

Kate's eyes sparkled.

"I'm going to be a real Sheep Queen, Bowers, if wool and mutton keep
climbing. The price of wool is the highest in its history."

Bowers looked at her in mute admiration. He was always loyal, but when
she was sociable and friendly like this he adored her. Alas, however,
the times when she was so were yearly growing rarer.

Kate went on tentatively:

"I think I'll 'cut' for a hard winter. You know my motto, 'Better be
sure than sorry.'"

"I wouldn't be surprised if 'twan't a humdinger--last winter was so
open. I think we'd be safer if we ship everything that's fat enough."

Bowers always said "we" when he spoke of the Outfit, though he was still
only a camptender working for wages.

Kate relied upon him to keep her informed of the details of the
business, which she had less time than formerly to look after
personally. His judgment was sometimes at fault, but she trusted his
honesty implicitly and, though she gave him little of her confidence, it
was so much more than she gave to any other person that he was flattered
by it.

"Guess what that Boston woolbuyer is offering me?" She tapped a letter.

"No idee."

"Twenty-six cents."

Bowers whistled.

"Gosh a'mighty! You're goin' to take it, ain't you?"

"I'll get a quarter more, if I hold out for it."

His face fell a little.

"I'll get it!" Her voice had a metallic quality. "It's a fine long
staple, and clean. If he won't, some one else will give it to me."

The sheep woman had the reputation now of being difficult to deal with,
of haggling over fractions, and it was of this that