“Yes, and, best of all, it leaves us with all the old stock disposed of, and nothing but young and vigorous animals with which to begin building up again,” said Kit, who had a great head for the cattle business and a faculty for seeing into the future.

“What aire we goin’ ter do with all this yere mazuma?” asked Bud, looking over the stacks of fifties, twenties, tens, and fives that lay on the table around which they were sitting in the living room, and which was flanked by piles of gold and a few hundred-dollar bills.

“Can’t get it into the bank until day after to-morrow,” said Ted.  “We’ll be too busy to-morrow looking after our guests, and I don’t suppose we’ll be free until after the dance to-morrow night.  Still, I’m not worrying about it.  We know everybody here to-night, and I’ll take care of it till we can ride over to Strongburg and bank it.”

Just then the door blew open with a bang, and big Ben scurried in, bringing with him a blast of prairie wind, crisp and chill from the mountain, that scattered the greenbacks all over the room, and two or three of the fives were blown into the fire and incinerated before any one could rescue them.

“Close that door!” shouted Bud, grasping frantically at the money that was capering over the top of the table.

Ben closed the door with a slam that shook the house.

“‘A fool and his money is soon parted,’” quoted Ben, when he saw the havoc wrought by the wind.

“You bet,” said Kit “Three fives blew into the fireplace, and are no more.  We’ll just charge them to your account.”

“Like dolly, you will!” said Ben.

“If it hadn’t been for you they wouldn’t be there.  What’s the reason we won’t?”

“Because you won’t.  I didn’t make the wind.”

“No, but consarn ye, ye let it in, an’ ye’re an accessory before er after ther fact.  I reckon both,” said Bud.

“Let it go, boys,” said Ted.  “Pick up the bills, and we’ll count and stack them again.”

“Where have you been, anyway?” asked Kit, addressing Ben.

“Down beddin’ my show for the night.  They’re about all in now.  All except the music, which will be here in the morning,” replied Ben.  “I’m not at all stuck on myself, but—­”

“Oh, no, you’ve got a very poor opinion of yourself, I guess,” said Kit.

“But I want to say that I think I got the bunkie-doodelest show that ever paced the glimmering, gleaming, gloaming grass of Moon Valley.”

“Listen to the hombre explode,” said Bud.  “He’s tryin’ ter be a feeble imitation o’ a real showman.  I’ll bet he shows up ter-morrer like a ringmaster in a sucuss, with high, shiny boots an’ a long whip an a tall, slick hat, an’ crack his whip an’ say:  ’What will ther leetle lady hev next?’”

Ben blushed, for his ambitions in the show line, now that he had had a taste of it, had really been in that direction, only he wouldn’t have had the boys know it for the world.