"Dad, he'll never run the White Slides outfit," asserted Columbine.

"Wal, it is a hard bunch, I'll agree. But I reckon the boys will stay,
exceptin', mebbe, Wils. An' it'll be jest as well fer him to leave."

"It's not good business to send away your best cowboy. I've heard you
complain lately of lack of men."

"I sure do need men," replied Belllounds, seriously. "Stock gettin' more
'n we can handle. I sent word over the range to Meeker, hopin' to get
some men there. What I need most jest now is a fellar who knows dogs an'
who'll hunt down the wolves an' lions an' bears thet're livin' off
my cattle."

"Dad, you need a whole outfit to handle the packs of hounds you've got.
Such an assortment of them! There must be a hundred. Only yesterday some
man brought a lot of mangy, long-eared canines. It's funny. Why, dad,
you're the laughing-stock of the range!'

"Yes, an' the range'll be thankin' me when I rid it of all these
varmints," declared Belllounds. "Lass, I swore I'd buy every dog fetched
to me, until I had enough to kill off the coyotes an' lofers an' lions.
I'll do it, too. But I need a hunter."

"Why not put Wilson Moore in charge of the hounds? He's a hunter."

"Wal, lass, thet might be a good idee," replied the rancher, nodding his
grizzled head. "Say, you're sort of wantin' me to keep Wils on."

"Yes, dad."