"And hog-tieing them," responded Jane Ann, eagerly. "That's Jib—and Bashful Ike. There! that's an axe Ike's got. He's going to slice up that steer."
"Oh, dear me! what for?" cried Helen.
"Why, the butchering act—right here and now?' demanded Heavy. "Aren't thinking of having a barbecue, are they?"
"You watch," returned the Western girl, greatly excited. "There! they've split that steer."
"I hope it's the big one that bunted the automobile," cried The Fox.
"Well, you can bet it ain't," snapped Jane Ann. "Old Trouble-Maker is going to yield us some fun at brandin' time—now you see."
But they were all too much interested just then in what was going on near at hand—and down at the fire line—to pay much attention to what Jane Ann said about Old Trouble-Maker. Bashful Ike and Jib Pottoway had split two steers "from stem to stern." Two other riders approached, and the girls recognized one of them as Old Bill himself.
"Tough luck, boys," grumbled the ranchman. "Them critters is worth five cents right yere on the hoof; but that fire's got to be smothered. Here, Jib! hitch my rope to t'tother end of your half of that critter."
