"Gonsisdency iss no chewel in dis game—it means go broke," placidly grunted Schultz, raking in his winnings. His friend Schneider smiled.
"Coyotes are gettin' too numerous, this year," Baxter remarked, shuffling.
Youbet pushed his sombrero back on his head. "They don't get numerous on a cow range," he said significantly.
"Huh!" snorted Baxter. "They 've got too much respect to stay on one longer than they 've got to."
"They 'd ruther be with their woolly-coated cousins," rejoined the cowman quietly. It was beneath his dignity as a cowman to pay much attention to what sheepmen said, yet he could not remain silent under such a remark.
He regarded sheep herders, those human beings who walked at their work, as men who had reached the lowest rung in the ladder of human endeavors. His belief was not original with him, but was that of many of his school. He was a
