"I dunno," answered Sid Todd, dryly. "Might be the game will hear of your coming and move on to the next State," and his eyes twinkled over his little joke.
"I'd like to see some kind of a round-up," said Phil. "Will there be one while we are here?"
"Might be, Mr.—I didn't quite catch your handle."
"Phil Lawrence. Just call me Phil."
"I will if you'll call me Todd, or Sid. I can't git used to this mister business nohow. Besides, the boys would have the laugh on me, if they heard you a-mistering me all the time."
"All right, Sid it is," said Dave. "And I'm Dave."
"And I am Roger," added the senator's son.
"About that round-up," continued the cowboy. "Might see something of the sort, for Mr. Endicott is goin' to sell some cattle the end of the month, and they'll be driven off to another range. But you'll see enough of cattle anyway, before you go home, if you are going to stay a month or six weeks."
"Any fishing?" queried the shipowner's son.
"Yes, plenty of fishing, back in the mountains. One place there you can catch a barrel or two of fish in ten minutes—if you've got lines enough," and once more Sid Todd chuckled at his joke.
It was a three hours' run to Bramley, for the
