y, 'specially, are to obey orders."

Nels took off his sombrero and scratched his head. "Bill, I reckon I'm
some forgetful. But I was mad. I'd 'a' remembered pretty soon, an' mebbe
my manners."

"Sure you would," replied Stillwell. "Wal, now, we don't seem to be
proceedin' much with my gol-lof team. Next ambitious player step up."

In Ambrose, who showed some skill in driving, Stillwell found one of
his team. The succeeding players, however, were so poor and so evenly
matched that the earnest Stillwell was in despair. He lost his temper
just as speedily as Nels had. Finally Ed Linton's wife appeared riding
up with Ambrose's wife, and perhaps this helped, for Ed suddenly
disclosed ability that made Stillwell single him out.

"Let me coach you a little," said Bill.

"Sure, if you like," replied Ed. "But I know more about this game than
you do."

"Wal, then, let's see you hit a ball straight. Seems to me you got
good all-fired quick. It's amazin' strange." ere Bill looked around to
discover the two young wives modestly casting eyes of admiration upon
their husbands. "Haw, haw! It ain't so darned strange. Mebbe that'll
help some. Now, Ed, stand up and don't sling your club as if you was
ropin' a steer. Come round easy-like an' hit straight."

Ed made several attempts which, although better than those of his
predecessors, were rather discouraging to the exacting coach. Presently,
after a particularly atrocious shot, Stillwell strode in distress here
and there, and finally stopped a dozen paces or more in front of the
teeing-ground. Ed, who for a cowboy was somewhat phlegmatic, calmly made
ready for another attempt.

"Fore!" he called.

Stillwell stared.

"Fore!" yelled Ed.

"Why're you hollerin' that way at me?" demanded Bill.

"I mean for you to lope off the horizon. Get back from in front."

"Oh, that was one of them durned crazy words Monty is always hollerin'.
Wal, I reckon I'm safe enough hyar. You couldn't hit me in a million
years."

"Bill, ooze away," urged Ed.

"Didn't I say you couldn't hit me? What am I coachin' you for? It's
because you hit crooked, ain't it? Wal, go ahaid an' break your back."

Ed Linton was a short, heavy man, and his stocky build gave evidence
of considerable strength. His former strokes had not been made at the
expense of exertion, but now he got ready for a supreme effort. A sudden
silence clamped down upon the exuberant cowboys. It was one of those
fateful moments when