on our hands."

"Not even a drop uh whisky in camp!" mourned Weary. "Slim, you ought
to be killed for getting away with that liniment."

Slim was too downhearted to resent the tone. "By golly, I can't think
what I done with it after I used it on Banjo. Seems like I stood it on
that rock--"

"Oh, hell!" snorted Cal. "That's forty miles back."

"Say, it's sure a fright!" sympathized Jack Bates as a muffled shriek
came through the cloth wall of the tent. "What's good for tincaneetis,
I wonder?"

"A rattling good doctor," retorted Chip, throwing things recklessly
about, still searching. "There goes the damn butter--pick it up, Cal."

"If old Dock was sober, he could do something," suggested Weary. "I
guess I'd better go after him; what do yuh think?"

"He could send out some stuff--if he was sober enough; he's sure wise
on medicine."

Weary made him a cigarette. "Well, it's me for Dry Lake," he said,
crisply. "I reckon Patsy can hang on till I get back; can poison
doesn't do the business inside several hours, and he hasn't been sick
long. He was all right when Happy Jack hit camp about two o'clock.
I'll be back by dark--I'll ride Glory." He swung up on the nearest
horse, which happened to be Chip's and raced out to the saddle bunch a
quarter of a mile away. The Happy Family watched him go and called
after him, urging him unnecessarily to speed.

Weary did not waste time having the bunch corralled but rode in among
the horses, his rope down and ready for business. Glory stared
curiously, tossed his crimpled, silver mane, dodged a second too late
and found himself caught.

It was unusual, this interruption just when he was busy cropping sweet
grasses and taking his ease, but he supposed there was some good reason
for it; at any rate he submitted quietly to being saddled and merely
nipped Weary's shoulder once and struck out twice with an ivory-white,
daintily rounded hoof--and Weary was grateful for the docile mood he
showed.

He mounted hurriedly without a word of praise or condemnation, and his
silence was to Glory more unusual than being roped and saddled on the
range. He seemed to understand that the stress was great, and fairly
bolted up the long, western slope of the creek bottom straight toward
the slant of the sun.

For two miles he kept the pace unbroken, though the way was not of the
smoothest and there was no trail to follow. Straight away to the west,
with fifteen miles of hills and