"Mine? You don't say you never seen it yet?"
Again they went off into a happy gale of laughter.
"It's a circle on the left rib. Gotter look out. Bar Q's pretty much the same. All the Bull's got to do to my circle is make a click to turn it into a Q and brand a bar above that. Pretty easy, huh?"
"Oh-h, but he wouldn't do a thing like that!"
She was startled, palpably alarmed in his behalf, and that alarm was sweet and dear to him.
"Wouldn't he, though! Sa-ay, where've you been living all your days that you never heard how the Bull got his herd?"
"Oh, my, I did hear once, b-but I didn't suppose that now he's so rich and owns half the cattle in the country, that he'd do such things any more."
"Oh, wouldn't he, though! Just give'm half a chance. He's got the habit, you see, and habits is like our skin. They stick to us."
Again they laughed merrily at this witticism.
"Orders are," went on Cyril, expanding under the girl's flattering attention and the shy admiration that shone from her wide blue eyes, "to lick in any and all stuff runnin' loose around the country, unbranded stuff, and stuff where the brand ain't clear. He give me the tip himself. Said there'd be a five to the rider for every head rolled in. Of course, I'm not losin' sleep about my stuff. I know just where they are on the range, you betchu, and I'm not leavin' them out o' sight too long. Thinkin' of tradin' them in, anyway, for—for—lumber and implements."