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Dillon was boss of the round-up--he had been elected by general

consent, and his word was law. He looked round upon them with a

twinkling eye, and wanted to know how long it was going to last.

But the way he put his question was:

"How much whisky is there left?"

Finding there was none, he ordered them all back to their

blankets. After a little skylarking, they obeyed. Next day Fraser

rode the hills, a sore, sore man. But nobody who did not know

could have guessed it. He would have died before admitting it to

any of his companions. Thus he won the accolade of his peers as a

worthy horse-man of the hills.

CHAPTER VIII -- THE BRONCHO BUSTERS