"Hear you're goin' up to stay the night at Hooper's," said he. "Know Hooper?"
"No, I don't," said I, "are you another of these Sunbirds with glad news?"
"Know about Hooper's boomerang?"
"Boomerang!" I replied, "what's that?"
"That's what they call it. You know how of course we all let each other's strays water at our troughs in this country, and send 'em back to their own range at round up."
"Brother, you interest me," said I, "and would you mind informing me further how you tell the dear little cows apart?"
"Well, old Hooper don't, that's all," went on Windy, without paying me any attention. "He built him a chute leading to the water corrals, and half way down the chute he built a gate that would swing across it and open a hole into a dry corral. And he had a high platform with a handle that ran the gate. When any cattle but those of his own brands came along, he had a man swing the gate and they landed up into the dry corral. By and by he let them out on the range again."
"Without water?"
"Sure! And of course back they came into the chute. And so on. Till they died, or we came along and drove them back home."
"Windy," said I, "you're stuffing me full of tacks."