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Little care we: “That’s right,” said the rancher; “Greasers are all like that. If they start to rustle off some of our cattle they go in and take a big bunch. Don’t seem to make much difference what sort they lift. They just take the nearest to hand.” He grew serious. “I want to tell you boys it’s getting bad. I had more cattle stole the last two year than ever before. I wish the United States would make up its mind to go into Mexico and clean out that bunch of thieves. It’s the only way we’ll ever get any peace here on the border.” Choked, stifling with the intense heat, Bob fell on his face, remembering that smoke always rises..

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Mrs. Taylor had prepared what seemed to Bob an especially fine supper, considering that they were miles away from civilization. During a lull in the conversation he mentioned it. She was much pleased. “Yes, Aunt Grenertsen. I’ll go right up now, this minute.” “No,” said Bob. “I’ll stick to the water. I found a canoe and I am just aching to do some paddling. Come on with me.” Johnny Blossom hastened to get Mother’s sharpest scissors—the big shiny ones—for he intended to cut some long strips of stout cloth to tie the goat’s legs with. Johnny cut and cut. Suddenly the big blades slipped, caught Johnny’s little finger, and before he knew it, had cut the tip of it clean off! It hurt awfully—oh, well—not so terribly after all; but my, oh, my! how it bled! Johnny Blossom bound his not over-clean handkerchief around it, but still the blood came. Now it was all over his trousers. Perhaps he had better hide until it stopped..