The fishermen shouted. Their mirth was hearty and uncontained.

"Go to it, Steve. Tell us some more," they demanded joyously.

Crumbs, generally the leader in all the camp fun, had not joined in the
laughter. He had been drawing on his waders and buckling on his creel.
Now he slipped the loop of the landing net over his head.

"We want a full bill of particulars, Steve. You go back and size up the
eyes of the lady lord and the other female Britishers," ordered Curly
gayly.

"Go yore own self, kid. I ain't roundin' up trouble for no babe just out
of the cradle," retorted the grinning rider. "What's yore hurry,
Crumbs?"

The young man addressed had started away but now turned. "No hurry, I
reckon, but I'm going fishing."

Steve chuckled. "You're headed in a bee line for Old Man Trouble. The
Johnnie boy up at the Lodge is plumb sore on this outfit. Seems that you
lads raised ructions last night and broken his sweet slumbers. He's got
the kick of a government mule coming. Why can't you wild Injuns behave
proper?"

"We only gave Curly a chapping because he let the flapjacks burn,"
returned Crumbs with a smile. "You see, he's come of age most, Curly
has. He'd ought to be responsible now, but he ain't. So we gave him what
was coming to him."

"Well, you explain that to Mr. Verinder if he sees you. He's sure on his
hind laigs about it."

"I expect he'll get over it in time," Crumbs said dryly. "Well, so-long,
boys. Good fishing to-night."

"Same to you," they called after him.

"Some man, Crumbs," commented Steve.

"He'll stand the acid," agreed Colter briefly.

"What's his last name? I ain't heard you lads call him anything but
Crumbs. I reckon that's a nickname."

Curly answered the question of the cowpuncher. "His name 's
Kilmeny--Jack Kilmeny. His folks used to live across the water. Maybe
this Honorable Miss Kilmeny and her brother are some kin of his."

"You don't say!"

"Course I don't know about that. His dad came over here when he was a
wild young colt. Got into some trouble at home, the way I heard it.
Bought a ranch out here and married. His family was high moguls in
England--or, maybe, it was Ireland. Anyhow, they didn't like Mrs.
Kilmeny from the Bar Double C ranch. Ain't that the way of it, Colter?"

The impassive gaze of the older man came back from the rushing river.
"You know so much about it, Curly, I'll not butt in with any more
misinformation," he answered with obvious sarcasm.

Curl