"Seventy-five per cent. of calves," he murmured, glancing out at the sunlit yards. "Say, it's been an elegant round-up." Then his enthusiasm rose and found expression. "It's the finest, luckiest ranch in Montana--in the country. Guess I'd be within my rights if I said 'in the world.' I can't say more." The quiet monosyllable brought the rancher down to earth. He looked round at his companion with an inquiring glance.…
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