[Illustration: "I never saw a sheepman yet that would fight, but you'vegot to"]

HIDDEN WATER

By DANE COOLIDGE

With Four Illustrations in Color

By MAYNARD DIXON

A. L. BURT COMPANY

Publishers--New York

COPYRIGHT

A. C. McCLURG & CO. 

1910

Published October 29, 1910

Second Edition, December 3, 1910

Entered at Stationers' Hall, London, England

All rights reserved

ILLUSTRATIONS

 "I never saw a sheepman yet that would fight, but you've got to" _Frontispiece_ "Put up them guns, you gawky fools! This man ain't going to eat ye!" 177 "No!" said Kitty, "you do not love me" 287 Threw the sand full in his face 462

HIDDEN WATER

CHAPTER I

THE MOUSE

After many long, brooding days of sunshine, when the clean-cutmountains gleamed brilliantly against the sky and the grama grasscurled slowly on its stem, the rain wind rose up suddenly out ofPapaguería and swooped down upon the desolate town of Bender, whirlinga cloud of dust before it; and the inhabitants, man and horse, took tocover. New-born clouds, rushing out of the ruck of flying dirt, cast acold, damp shadow upon the earth and hurried past; white-crestedthunder-caps, piling-up above the Four Peaks, swept resolutely down tomeet them; and the storm wind, laden with the smell of greasewood andwetted alkali, lashed the gaunt desert bushes mercilessly as it howledacross the plain. Striking the town it jumped wickedly against the oldHotel Bender, where most of the male population had taken shelter, buffeting its false front until the glasses tinkled and the barmirrors swayed dizzily from their moorings. Then with a suddenthunder on the tin roof the flood came down, and Black Tex set up thedrinks. 

It was a tall cowman just down from the Peaks who ordered the round, and so all-embracing was his good humor that he bid every one in theroom drink with him, even a sheepman. Broad-faced and huge, with fourmonths' growth of hair and a thirst of the same duration, he stood atthe end of the bar, smiling radiantly, one sun-blackened hand toyingwith the empty glass. 

"Come up, fellers, " he said, waving the other in invitation, "anddrink to Arizona. With a little more rain and good society she'd be aholy wonder, as the Texas land boomer says down in hell. " They came upwillingly, cowpunchers and sheepmen, train hands, prospectors, and thesaloon bums that Black Tex kept about to blow such ready spenders ashe, whenever they came to town. With a practised jolt of the bottleTex passed down the line, filling each heavy tumbler to the brim; hepoured a thin one for himself and beckoned in his roustabout to swellthe count--but still there was an empty glass. There was one man overin the corner who had declined to drink. He sat at a disused cardtable studiously thumbing over an old magazine, and as he raised hisdram the barkeeper glowered at him intolerantly. 

"Well, " said the big cowboy, reaching for his liquor, "here's how--andmay she rain for a week!" He shoved back his high black sombrero as hespoke, but before he signalled the toast his eye caught the sidelongglance of Black Tex, and he too noticed the little man in the corner. 

"What's the matter?" he inquired, leaning over toward Tex and jerkinghis thumb dubiously at the corner, and as the barkeeper scowled andshrugged his shoulders he set down his glass and stared. 

The stranger was a small man, for Arizona, and his delicate hands werealmost as white as a woman's; but the lines in his face were gravendeep, without effeminacy, and his slender neck was muscled like awrestler's. In dress he was not unlike the men about him--Texas boots, a broad sombrero, and a canvas coat to turn the rain, --but his mannerwas that of another world, a sombre, scholarly repose such as youwould look for in the reference room of the Boston Public Library; andhe crouched back in his corner like a shy, retiring mouse. For amoment the cowman regarded him intently, as if seeking for someexculpating infirmity; then, leaving the long line of drinkers tochafe at the delay, he paused to pry into the matter. 

"Say, partner, " he began, his big mountain voice tamed down to amasterful calm, "won't you come over and have something with us?"

There was a challenge in the words which did not escape the stranger;he glanced up suddenly from his reading and a startled look came intohis eyes as he saw the long line of men watching him. They were largeclear eyes, almost piercing in their intentness, yet strangelyinnocent and childlike. For a moment they rested upon the regal formof the big cowboy, no less a man than Jefferson Creede, foreman of theDos S, and there was in them something of that silent awe and worshipwhich big men love to see, but when they encountered the black looksof the multitude and the leering smile of Black Tex they lit upsuddenly with an answering glint of defiance. 

"No, thank you, " he said, nodding amiably to the cowman, "I don'tdrink. "

An incredulous murmur passed along the line, mingled with sarcasticmutterings, but the cowman did not stir. 

"Well, have a cigar, then, " he suggested patiently; and the barkeeper, eager to have it over, slapped one down on the bar and raised hisglass. 

"Thank you just as much, " returned the little man politely, "but Idon't smoke, either. I shall have to ask you to excuse me. "

"Have a glass of milk, then, " put in the barkeeper, going off into aguffaw at the familiar jest, but the cowboy shut him up with a look. 

"W'y, certainly, " he said, nodding civilly to the stranger. "Come on, fellers!" And with a flourish he raised his glass to his lips as iftossing off the liquor at a gulp. Then with another downward flourishhe passed the whiskey into a convenient spittoon and drank his chaserpensively, meanwhile shoving a double eagle across the bar. As BlackTex rang it up and counted out the change Creede stuffed it into hispocket, staring absently out the window at the downpour. Then with amuttered word about his horse he strode out into the storm. 

Deprived of their best spender, the crowd drifted back to the tables;friendly games of coon-can sprang up; stud poker was resumed; and acrew of railroad men, off duty, looked out at the sluicing waters andidly wondered whether the track would go out--the usual thing inArizona. After the first delirium of joy at seeing it rain at allthere is an aftermath of misgiving, natural enough in a land where thewhole surface of the earth, mountain and desert, has been chopped intoditches by the trailing feet of cattle and sheep, and most of thegrass pulled up by the roots. In such a country every gulch becomes awatercourse almost before the dust is laid, the _arroyos_ turn torivers and the rivers to broad floods, drifting with trees andwreckage. But the cattlemen and sheepmen who happened to be in Bender, either to take on hands for the spring round-up or to ship supplies totheir shearing camps out on the desert, were not worrying about therailroad. Whether the bridges went out or held, the grass and browsewould shoot up like beanstalks in to-morrow's magic sunshine; and evenif the Rio Salagua blocked their passage, or the shearers' tents werebeaten into the mud, there would still be feed, and feed waseverything. 

But while the rain was worth a thousand dollars a minute to thecountry at large, trade languished in the Hotel Bender. In a landwhere a gentleman cannot take a drink without urging every one withinthe sound of his voice to join in, the saloon business, while runningon an assured basis, is sure to have its dull and idle moments. Havingrung up the two dollars and a half which Jefferson Creede paid for hislast drink--the same being equivalent to one day's wages as foreman ofthe Dos S outfit--Black Tex, as Mr. Brady of the Bender bar preferredto be called, doused the glasses into a tub, turned them over to hisroustabout, and polished the cherrywood moodily. Then he drew hiseyebrows down and scowled at the little man in the corner. 

In his professional career he had encountered a great many men who didnot drink, but most of them smoked, and the others would at leasttake a cigar home to their friends. But here was a man who refused tocome in on a treat at all, and a poor, miserable excuse for a man hewas, too, without a word for any one. Mr. Brady's reflections on theperversity of tenderfeet were cut short by a cold blast of air. Thedoor swung open, letting in a smell of wet greasewood, and an old man, his hat dripping, stumbled in and stood swaying against the bar. Hisaged sombrero, blacksmithed along the ridge with copper rivets, wasset far back on a head of long gray hair which hung in heavy stringsdown his back, like an Indian's; his beard, equally long and tangled, spread out like a chest protector across his greasy shirt, and hisfiery eyes roved furtively about the room as he motioned for a drink. Black Tex set out the bottle negligently and stood waiting. 

"Is that all?" he inquired pointedly, as the old man slopped out adrink. 

"Well, have one yourself, " returned the old-timer grudgingly. Then, realizing his breach of etiquette, he suddenly straightened up andincluded the entire barroom in a comprehensive sweep of the hand. 

"Come up hyar, all of yoush, " he said drunkenly. "Hev adrink--everybody--no, everybody--come up hyar, I say!" And thegraceless saloon bums dropped their cards and came trooping uptogether. A few of the more self-respecting men slipped quietly outinto the card rooms; but the studious stranger, disdaining such punysubterfuges, remained in his place, as impassive and detached asever. 

"Hey, young man, " exclaimed the old-timer jauntily, "step up hyar andnominate yer pizen!"

He closed his invitation with an imperative gesture, but the young mandid not obey. 

"No, thank you, Uncle, " he replied soberly, "I don't drink. "

"Well, hev a cigar, then, " returned the old man, finishing out theformula of Western hospitality, and once more Black Tex glowered downupon this guest who was always "knocking a shingle off his sign. "

"Aw, cut it out, Bill, " he sneered, "that young feller don't drink nersmoke, neither one--and he wouldn't have no truck with you, nohow!"

They drank, and the stranger dropped back into his reading unperturbed. Once more Black Tex scrubbed the bar and scowled at him; then, tapping peremptorily on the board with a whiskey glass, he gave way tohis just resentment. 

"Hey, young feller, " he said, jerking his hand arbitrarily, "come overhere. Come over here, I said--I want to talk with you!"

For a moment the man in the corner looked up in well-bred surprise;then without attempting to argue the point he arose and made his wayto the bar. 

"What's the matter with you, anyway?" demanded Brady roughly. "Are youtoo good to drink with the likes of us?"

The stranger lowered his eyes before the domineering gaze of hisinquisitor and shifted his feet uneasily. 

"I don't drink with anybody, " he said at last. "And if you had anyother waiting-room in your hotel, " he added, "I'd keep away from yourbarroom altogether. As it is, maybe you wouldn't mind leaving mealone. "

At this retort, reflecting as it did upon the management, Black Texbegan to breathe heavily and sway upon his feet. 

"I asked you, " he roared, thumping his fist upon the bar and openingup his eyes, "whether you are too good to drink with the likes ofus--me, f'r instance--and I want to git an answer!"

He leaned far out over the bar as if listening for the first wordbefore he hit him, but the stranger did not reply immediately. Instead, with simple-minded directness he seemed to be studying on thematter. The broad grin of the card players fell to a wondering stareand every man leaned forward when, raising his sombre eyes from thefloor, the little man spoke. 

"Why, yes, " he said quietly, "I think I am. "

"Yes, _what_?" yelled the barkeeper, astounded. "You think you'rewhat?"

"Now, say, " protested the younger man. Then, apparently recognizingthe uselessness of any further evasion, he met the issue squarely. 

"Well, since you crowd me to it, " he cried, flaring up, "I _am_ toogood! I'm too good a man to drink when I don't want to drink--I'm toogood to accept treats when I don't stand treat! And more than that, "he added slowly and impressively, "I'm too good to help blow that oldman, or any other man, for his money!"

He rose to his utmost height as he spoke, turning to meet the glanceof every man in the room, and as he faced them, panting, his deep eyesglowed with a passion of conviction. 

"If that is too good for this town, " he said, "I'll get out of it, butI won't drink on treats to please anybody. "

The gaze of the entire assembly followed him curiously as he went backto his corner, and Black Tex was so taken aback by this unexpectedeffrontery on the part of his guest that he made no reply whatever. Then, perceiving that his business methods had been questioned, hedrew himself up and frowned darkly. 

"Hoity-toity!" he sniffed with exaggerated concern. "Who th' hell isthis, now? One of them little white-ribbon boys, fresh from the East, I bet ye, travellin' for the W. P. S. Q. T. H'm-m--tech me not--ohdeah!" He hiked up his shoulders, twisted his head to a pose, andshrilled his final sarcasms in the tones of a finicky old lady; butthe stranger stuck resolutely to his reading, whereupon the blackbarkeeper went sullen and took a drink by himself. 

Like many a good mixer, Mr. Brady of the Hotel Bender was often toogood a patron of his own bar, and at such times he developed a meanstreak, with symptoms of homicidal mania, which so far had kept thetown marshal guessing. Under these circumstances, and with the rumorof a killing at Fort Worth to his credit, Black Tex was accustomed tobeing humored in his moods, and it went hard with him to be calleddown in the middle of a spectacular play, and by a rank stranger, atthat. The chair-warmers of the Hotel Bender bar therefore discreetlyignored the unexpected rebuke of their chief and proceeded noisilywith their games, but the old man who had paid for the drinks was nosuch time-server. After tucking what was left of his money back intohis overalls he balanced against the bar railing for a while and thensteered straight for the dark corner. 

"Young feller, " he said, leaning heavily upon the table where thestranger was reading, "I'm old Bill Johnson, of Hell's Hip Pocket, andI wan'er shake hands with you!"

The young man looked up quickly and the card players stopped assuddenly in their play, for Old Man Johnson was a fighter in his cups. But at last the stranger showed signs of friendliness. As the old manfinished speaking he rose with the decorum of the drawing-room andextended his white hand cordially. 

"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Johnson, " he said. "Won't you sitdown?"

"No, " protested the old man, "I do' wanner sit down--I wanner ask youa question. " He reeled, and balanced himself against a chair. "Iwanner ask you, " he continued, with drunken gravity, "on the squar', now, did you ever drink?"

"Why, yes, Uncle, " replied the younger man, smiling at the question, "I used to take a friendly glass, once in a while--but I don't drinknow. " He added the last with a finality not to be mistaken, but Mr. Johnson of Hell's Hip Pocket was not there to urge him on. 

"No, no, " he protested. "You're mistaken, Mister--er--Mister--"

"Hardy, " put in the little man. 

"Ah yes--Hardy, eh? And a dam' good name, too. I served under acaptain by that name at old Fort Grant, thirty years ago. Waal, Hardy, I like y'r face--you look honest--but I wanner ask you 'nutherquestion--why don't you drink now, then?"

Hardy laughed indulgently, and his eyes lighted up with good humor, asif entertaining drunken men was his ordinary diversion. 

"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson, " he said. "If I should drinkwhiskey the way you folks down here do, I'd get drunk. "

"W'y sure, " admitted Old Man Johnson, sinking shamelessly into achair. "I'm drunk now. But what's the difference?"

Noting the black glances of the barkeeper, Hardy sat down beside himand pitched the conversation in a lower key. 

"It may be all right for you, Mr. Johnson, " he continued confidentially, "and of course that's none of my business; but if I should get drunkin this town, I'd either get into a fight and get licked, or I'dwake up the next morning broke, and nothing to show for it but a sorehead. "

"That's me!" exclaimed Old Man Johnson, slamming his battered hat onthe table, "that's me, Boy, down to the ground! I came down hyar tobuy grub f'r my ranch up in Hell's Hip Pocket, but look at me now, drunk as a sheep-herder, and only six dollars to my name. " He shookhis shaggy head and fell to muttering gloomily, while Hardy revertedpeacefully to his magazine. 

After a long pause the old man raised his face from his arms andregarded the young man searchingly. 

"Say, " he said, "you never told me why you refused to drink with me awhile ago. "

"Well, I'll tell you, " answered Hardy, honestly, "and I'm sure you'llunderstand how it is with me. I never expect to take another drink aslong as I live in this country--not unless I get snake-bit. One drinkof this Arizona whiskey will make me foolish, and two will make medrunk, I'm that light-headed. Now, if I had taken a drink with you aminute ago I'd be considered a cheap sport if I didn't treat back, wouldn't I? And then I'd be drunk. Yes, that's a fact. So I have tocut it out altogether. I like you just as well, you understand, andall these other gentlemen, but I just naturally can't do it. "

"Oh, hell, " protested the old man, "that's all right. Don't apologize, Boy, whatever you do. D'yer know what I came over hyar fer?" he askedsuddenly reaching out a crabbed hand. "Well, I'll tell ye. I've be'nlookin' f'r years f'r a white man that I c'd swear off to. Not one ofthese pink-gilled preachers but a man that would shake hands with meon the squar' and hold me to it. Now, Boy, I like you--will you shakehands on that?"

"Sure, " responded the young man soberly. "But I tell you, Uncle, " headded deprecatingly, "I just came into town to-day and I'm likely togo out again to-morrow. Don't you think you could kind of look afteryourself while I'm gone? I've seen a lot of this swearing-off businessalready, and it don't seem to amount to much anyhow unless the fellowthat swears off is willing to do all the hard work himself. "

There was still a suggestion of banter in his words, but the old manwas too serious to notice it. 

"Never mind, boy, " he said solemnly, "I can do all the work, but Ijist had to have an honest man to swear off to. "

He rose heavily to his feet, adjusted his copper-riveted hatlaboriously, and drifted slowly out the door. And with another spendergone the Hotel Bender lapsed into a sleepy quietude. The rain hammeredfitfully on the roof; the card players droned out their bids and bets;and Black Tex, mechanically polishing his bar, alternated successivejolts of whiskey with ill-favored glances into the retired cornerwhere Mr. Hardy, supposedly of the W. P. S. Q. T. , was studiouslyperusing a straw-colored Eastern magazine. Then, as if to lighten thegloom, the sun flashed out suddenly, and before the shadow of thescudding clouds had dimmed its glory a shrill whistle from down thetrack announced the belated approach of the west-bound train. Immediately the chairs began to scrape; the stud-poker players cut forthe stakes and quit; coon-can was called off, and by the time NumberNine slowed down for the station the entire floating population ofBender was lined up to see her come in. 

Rising head and shoulders above the crowd and well in front stoodJefferson Creede, the foreman of the Dos S; and as a portly gentlemanin an unseasonable linen duster dropped off the Pullman he advanced, waving his hand largely. 

"Hullo, Judge!" he exclaimed, grinning jovially. "I was afraid you'dbogged down into a washout somewhere!"

"Not at all, Jeff, not at all, " responded the old gentleman, shakinghands warmly. "Say, this is great, isn't it?" He turned his genialsmile upon the clouds and the flooded streets for a moment and thenhurried over toward the hotel. 

"Well, how are things going up on the range?" he inquired, plungingheadlong into business and talking without a stop. "Nicely, nicely, Idon't doubt. I tell you, Mr. Creede, that ranch has marvellouspossibilities--marvellous! All it needs is a little patience, a littlediplomacy, you understand--_and holding on_, until we can pass thisforestry legislation. Yes, sir, while the present situation may seem alittle strained--and I don't doubt you are having a hard time--at thesame time, if we can only get along with these sheepmen--appeal totheir better nature, you understand--until we get some protection atlaw, I am convinced that we can succeed yet. I want to have a longtalk with you on this subject, Jeff--man to man, you understand, andbetween friends--but I hope you will reconsider your resolution toresign, because that would just about finish us off. It isn't a matterof money, is it, Jefferson? For while, of course, we are not making afortune--"

He paused and glanced up at his foreman's face, which was growing moresullen every minute with restrained impatience. 

"Well, speak out, Jeff, " he said resignedly. "What is it?"

"You know dam' well what it is, " burst out the tall cowboy petulantly. "It's them sheepmen. And I want to tell you right now that no moneycan hire me to run that ranch another year, not if I've got to smileand be nice to those sons of--well, you know what kind of sons Imean--that dog-faced Jasper Swope, for instance. "

He spat vehemently at the mention of the name and led the way to acard room in the rear of the barroom. 

"Of course I'll work your cattle for you, " he conceded, as he enteredthe booth, "but if you want them sheepmen handled diplomatically you'dbetter send up a diplomat. I'm that wore out I can't talk to 'emexcept over the top of a six-shooter. "

The deprecating protestations of the judge were drowned by the scuffleof feet as the hangers-on and guests of the hotel tramped in, and inthe round of drinks that followed his presence was half forgotten. Notbeing a drinking man himself, and therefore not given to the generouspractice of treating, the arrival of Judge Ware, lately retired fromthe bench and now absentee owner of the Dos S Ranch, did not createmuch of a furore in Bender. All Black Tex and the bunch knew was thathe was holding a conference with Jefferson Creede, and that if Jeffwas pleased with the outcome of the interview he would treat, but ifnot he would probably retire to the corral and watch his horse eathay, openly declaring that Bender was the most God-forsaken hell-holenorth of the Mexican line--for Creede was a man of moods. 

In the lull which followed the first treat, the ingratiating drummerwho had set up the drinks, charging the same to his expense account, leaned against the bar and attempted to engage the barkeeper inconversation, asking leading questions about business in general andMr. Einstein of the New York Store in particular; but Black Tex, inspite of his position, was uncommunicative. Immediately after thearrival of the train the little man who had called him down hadreturned to the barroom and immersed himself in those wearisomemagazines which a lunger had left about the place, and, far from beingimpressed with his sinister expression, had ignored his unfriendlyglances entirely. More than that, he had deserted his dark corner andseated himself on a bench by the window from which he now looked outupon the storm with a brooding preoccupation as sincere as it wasmaddening. His large deer eyes were fixed upon the distance, and hismanner was that of a man who studies deeply upon some abstruseproblem; of a man with a past, perhaps, such as often came to thoseparts, crossed in love, or hiding out from his folks. 

Black Tex dismissed the drummer with an impatient gesture and waspondering solemnly upon his grievances when a big, square-jowled catrushed out from behind the bar and set up a hoarse, raucous mewing. 

"Ah, shet up!" growled Brady, throwing him away with his foot; but asthe cat's demands became more and more insistent the barkeeper was atlast constrained to take some notice. 

"What's bitin' you?" he demanded, peering into the semi-darknessbehind the bar; and as the cat, thus encouraged, plunged recklessly inamong a lot of empty bottles, he promptly threw him out and fished upa mouse trap, from the cage of which a slender tail was wrigglingfrantically. 

"Aha!" he exclaimed, advancing triumphantly into the middle of thefloor. "Look, boys, here's where we have some fun with Tom!" And asthe card players turned down their hands to watch the sport, the oldcat, scenting his prey, rose up on his hind legs and clutched at thecage, yelling. 

Grabbing him roughly by the scruff of the neck Black Tex suddenlythrew him away and opened the trap, but the frightened mouse, unawareof his opportunity, remained huddled up in the corner. 

"Come out of that, " grunted the barkeeper, shaking the cage while withhis free hand he grappled the cat, and before he could let go his holdthe mouse was halfway across the room, heading for the bench whereHardy sat. 

"Ketch 'im!" roared Brady, hurling the eager cat after it, and just asthe mouse was darting down a hole Tom pinned it to the floor with hisclaws. 

"What'd I tell ye?" cried the barkeeper, swaggering. "That cat willketch 'em every time. Look at that now, will you?"

With dainty paws arched playfully, the cat pitched the mouse into theair and sprang upon it like lightning as it darted away. Then mumblingit with a nicely calculated bite, he bore it to the middle of thefloor and laid it down, uninjured. 

"Ain't he hell, though?" inquired Tex, rolling his eyes upon thespectators. The cat reached out cautiously and stirred it up with hispaw; and once more, as his victim dashed for its hole, he caught itin full flight. But now the little mouse, its hair all wet andrumpled, crouched dumbly between the feet of its captor and would notrun. Again and again the cat stirred it up, sniffing suspiciously tomake sure it was not dead; then in a last effort to tempt it hedeliberately lay over on his back and rolled, purring and closinghis eyes luxuriously, until, despite its hurts, the mouse once moretook to flight. Apparently unheeding, the cat lay inert, followingits wobbly course with half-shut eyes--then, lithe as a panther, he leaped up and took after it. There was a rush and a scrambleagainst the wall, but just as he struck out his barbed claw a handclosed over the mouse and the little man on the bench whisked itdexterously away. 

Instantly the black cat leaped into the air, clamoring for his prey, and with a roar like a mountain bull Black Tex rushed out tointercede. 

"Put down that mouse, you freak!" he bellowed, charging across theroom. "Put 'im down, I say, or I'll break you in two!" He launched hisheavy fist as he spoke, but the little man ducked it neatly and, stepping behind a table, stood at bay, still holding the mouse. 

"Put 'im _down_, I tell you!" shouted the barkeeper, panting withvexation. "What--you won't, eh? Well, I'll learn you!" And with awicked oath he drew his revolver and levelled it across the table. 

"Put--down--that--mouse!" he said slowly and distinctly, but Hardyonly shook his head. Every man in the room held his breath for thereport; the poker players behind fell over tables and chairs to getout of range; and still they stood there, the barkeeper purple, thelittle man very pale, glaring at one another along the top of thebarrel. In the hollow of his hand Hardy held the mouse, which tottereddrunkenly; while the cat, still clamoring for his prize, raced aboutunder the table, bewildered. 

"Hurry up, now, " said the barkeeper warningly, "I'll give you five. One--come on, now--two--"

At the first count the old defiance leaped back into Hardy's eyes andhe held the mouse to his bosom as a mother might shield her child; atthe second he glanced down at it, a poor crushed thing trembling aswith an ague from its wounds; then, smoothing it gently with his hand, he pinched its life out suddenly and dropped it on the floor. 

Instantly the cat pounced upon it, nosing the body eagerly, and BlackTex burst into a storm of oaths. 

"Well, dam' your heart, " he yelled, raising his pistol in the airas if about to throw the muzzle against his breast and fire. "What--in--hell--do you mean?"

Baffled and evaded in every play the evil-eyed barkeeper suddenlysensed a conspiracy to show him up, and instantly the realization ofhis humiliation made him dangerous. 

"Perhaps you figure on makin' a monkey out of me!" he suggested, hissing snakelike through his teeth; but Hardy made no answerwhatever. 

"Well, _say_ something, can't you?" snapped the badman, hisoverwrought nerves jangled by the delay. "What d'ye mean byinterferin' with my cat?"

For a minute the stranger regarded him intently, his sad, far-seeingeyes absolutely devoid of evil intent, yet baffling in theirinscrutable reserve--then he closed his lips again resolutely, as ifdenying expression to some secret that lay close to his heart, turningit with undue vehemence to the cause of those who suffer and cannotescape. 

"Well, f'r Gawd's sake, " exclaimed Black Tex at last, lowering his gunin a pet, "don't I git _no_ satisfaction--what's your _i_-dee?"

"There's too much of this cat-and-mouse business going on, " answeredthe little man quietly, "and I don't like it. "

"Oh, you don't, eh?" echoed the barkeeper sarcastically; "well, excuse_me_! I didn't know that. " And with a bow of exaggerated politeness heretired to his place. 

"The drinks are on the house, " he announced, jauntily strewing theglasses along the bar. "Won't drink, eh? All right. But lemme tellyou, pardner, " he added, wagging his head impressively, "you're goin'to git hurt some day. "

CHAPTER II

THE MAN FROM CHERRYCOW

After lashing the desert to a frazzle and finding the leaks in theHotel Bender, the wind from Papaguería went howling out over the mesa, still big with rain for the Four Peaks country, and the sun came outgloriously from behind the clouds. Already the thirsty sands hadsucked up the muddy pools of water, and the board walk which extendedthe length of the street, connecting saloon with saloon and endingwith the New York Store, smoked with the steam of drying. Along theedge of the walk, drying out their boots in the sun, the casualresidents of the town--many of them held up there by the storm--sat inpairs and groups, talking or smoking in friendly silence. A littleapart from the rest, for such as he are a long time making friends inArizona, Rufus Hardy sat leaning against a post, gazing gloomily outacross the desert. For a quiet, retiring young man, interested in goodliterature and bearing malice toward no one, his day in the Benderbarroom had been eventful out of all proportion to his deserts andwishes, and he was deep in somber meditation when the door opened andJudge Ware stepped out into the sunshine. 

In outward appearance the judge looked more like a large fresh-facedboy in glasses than one of San Francisco's eminent jurists, and thesimilarity was enhanced by the troubled and deprecating glances withwhich he regarded his foreman, who towered above him like a mentor. There was a momentary conference between them at the doorway, andthen, as Creede stumped away down the board walk, the judge turned andreluctantly approached Hardy. 

"I beg your pardon, sir, " he began, as the young man in some confusionrose to meet him, "but I should like a few words with you, on a matterof business. I am Mr. Ware, the owner of the Dos S Ranch--perhaps youmay have heard of it--over in the Four Peaks country. Well--I hardlyknow how to begin--but my foreman, Mr. Creede, was highly impressedwith your conduct a short time ago in the--er--affray with thebarkeeper. I--er--really know very little as to the rights of thematter, but you showed a high degree of moral courage, I'm sure. Wouldyou mind telling me what your business is in these parts, Mr. --er--"

"Hardy, " supplied the young man quietly, "Rufus Hardy. I am--"

"Er--_what_?" exclaimed the judge, hastily focussing his glasses. "Hardy--Hardy--where have I heard that name before?"

"I suppose from your daughter, Miss Lucy, " replied the young man, smiling at his confusion. "Unless, " he added hastily, "she hasforgotten about me. "

"Why, Rufus Hardy!" exclaimed the judge, reaching out his hand. "Why, bless my heart--to be sure. Why, where have you been for this lastyear and more? I am sure your father has been quite worried aboutyou. "

"Oh, I hope not, " answered Hardy, shifting his gaze. "I guess he knowsI can take care of myself by this time--if I do write poetry, " headded, with a shade of bitterness. 

"Well, well, " said the judge, diplomatically changing the subject, "Lucywill be glad to hear of you, at any rate. I believe she--er--wrote youonce, some time ago, at your Berkeley address, and the letter wasreturned as uncalled for. "

He gazed over the rims of his glasses inquiringly, and with asuggestion of asperity, but the young man was unabashed. 

"I hope you will tell Miss Lucy, " he said deferentially, "that onaccount of my unsettled life I have not ordered my mail forwarded forsome time. " He paused and for the moment seemed to be consideringsome further explanation; then his manner changed abruptly. 

"I believe you mentioned a matter of business, " he remarked bluffly, and the judge came back to earth with a start. His mind had wanderedback a year or more to the mysterious disappearance of this sameself-contained young man from his father's house, not three blocksfrom his own comfortable home. There had been a servant's rumor thathe had sent back a letter or two postmarked "Bowie, Arizona"--but oldColonel Hardy had said never a word. 

"Er--yes, " he assented absently, "but--well, I declare, " he exclaimedhelplessly, "I've quite forgotten what it was about. "

"Won't you sit down, then?" suggested Hardy, indicating the edge ofthe board walk with a courtly sweep of the hand. "This rain will makegood feed for you up around the Four Peaks--I believe it was of yourranch there that you wished to speak. "

Judge Ware settled down against a convenient post and caught hisbreath, meanwhile regarding his companion curiously. 

"Yes, that's it, " he said. "I wanted to talk with you about my ranch, but I swear I'll have to wait till Creede comes back, now. "

"Very well, " answered Hardy easily; "we can talk about home, then. How is Miss Lucy succeeding with her art--is she still working at theInstitute?"

"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed the judge, quite mollified by the inquiry. "Indeed she is, and doing as well as any of them. She had a landscapehung at the last exhibit, that was very highly praised, even byMathers, and you know how hard he is to please. Tupper Browne won theprize, but I think Lucy's was twice the picture--kind of soft andsunshiny, you know--it made you think of home, just to look at it. "

"Well, I'm glad to hear that, " said Hardy, looking up the raggedstreet a little wistfully. "I kind of lose track of things down here, knocking around from place to place. " He seated himself wearily on theedge of the sidewalk and drummed with his sinewy white hands against aboot leg. "But it's a great life, sure, " he observed, half to himself. "And by the way, Mr. Ware, " he continued, "if it's all the same to youI wish you wouldn't say anything to your foreman about my past life. Not that there is anything disgraceful about it, but there isn't muchdemand for college graduates in this country, you know, and I mightwant to strike him for a job. "

Judge Ware nodded, a little distantly; he did not approve of thiscareless young man in all his moods. For a man of good family he washardly presentable, for one thing, and he spoke at times like anordinary working man. So he awaited the lumbering approach of hisforeman in sulky silence, resolved to leave the matter entirely in hishands. 

Jefferson Creede bore down upon them slowly, sizing up the situation ashe came, or trying to, for everything seemed to be at a standstill. 

"Well?" he remarked, looking inquiringly from the judge to Hardy. "Howabout it?"

There was something big and dominating about him as he loomed abovethem, and the judge's schoolboy state of mind instantly returned. 

"I--I really haven't done anything about the matter, Jefferson, " hestammered apologetically. "Perhaps you will explain our circumstancesto Mr. Hardy here, so that we can discuss the matter intelligently. "He looked away as he spoke, and the tall foreman grunted audibly. 

"Well, " he drawled, "they ain't much to explain. The sheepmen havebeen gittin' so free up on our range that I've had a little troublewith 'em--and if I was the boss they'd be more trouble, you can betyour life on that. But the judge here seems to think we can kindersuck the hind teat and baby things along until they git that ForestReserve act through, and make our winnin' later. He wants to makefriends with these sheepmen and git 'em to kinder go around a littleand give us half a chanst. Well, maybe it can be done--but not by me. So I told him either to get a superintendent to handle the sheep endof it or rustle up a new foreman, because I see red every time I heara sheep-blat. 

"Then come the question, " continued the cowman, throwing out his broadhand as if indicating the kernel of the matter, "of _gittin'_ such aman, and while we was talkin' it over you called old Tex down so goodand proper that there wasn't any doubt in _my_ mind--providin' youwant the job, of course. "

He paused and fixed his compelling eyes upon Hardy with such a mixtureof admiration and good humor that the young man was won over at once, although he made no outward sign. It was Judge Ware who was to passupon the matter finally, and he waited deferentially for him tospeak. 

"Well--er--Jefferson, " began the judge a little weakly, "do you thinkthat Mr. Hardy possesses the other qualities which would be called forin such a man?"

"W'y, sure, " responded Creede, waving the matter aside impatiently. "Go ahead and hire him before he changes his mind. "

"Very well then, Mr. Hardy, " said the judge resignedly, "the firstrequisite in such a man is that he shall please Mr. Creede. And sincehe commends you so warmly I hope that you will accept the position. Let me see--um--would seventy-five dollars a month seem a reasonablefigure? Well, call it seventy-five, then--that's what I pay Mr. Creede, and I want you to be upon an equality in such matters. 

"Now as to your duties. Jefferson will have charge of the cattle, asusual; and I want you, Mr. Hardy, to devote your time and attention tothis matter of the sheep. Our ranch house at Hidden Water lies almostdirectly across the river from one of the principal sheep crossings, and a little hospitality shown to the shepherds in passing might belike bread cast upon the waters which comes back an hundred fold aftermany days. We cannot hope to get rid of them entirely, but if thesheep owners would kindly respect our rights to the upper range, whichMr. Creede will point out to you, I am sure we should take it verykindly. Now that is your whole problem, Rufus, and I leave the detailsentirely in your hands. But whatever you do, be friendly and see ifyou can't appeal to their better nature. "

He delivered these last instructions seriously and they were so takenby Hardy, but Creede laughed silently, showing all his white teeth, yet without attracting the unfavorable attention of the judge, who wasa little purblind. Then there was a brief discussion of details, anintroduction to Mr. Einstein of the New York Store, where Hardy wasgiven _carte blanche_ for supplies, and Judge Ware swung up on thewest-bound limited and went flying away toward home, leaving hisneighbor's son--now his own superintendent and sheep expert--standingcomposedly upon the platform. 

"Well, " remarked Creede, smiling genially as he turned back to thehotel, "the Old Man's all right, eh, if he does have fits! He'sgood-hearted--and that goes a long ways in this country--but actually, I believe he knows less about the cattle business than any man inArizona. He can't tell a steer from a stag--honest! And I can lose hima half-mile from camp any day. "

The tall cattleman clumped along in silence for a while, smiling oversome untold weakness of his boss--then he looked down upon Hardy andchuckled to himself. 

"I'm glad you're going to be along this trip, " he said confidentially. "Of course I'm lonely as a lost dog out there, but that ain't it; thefact is, I need somebody to watch me. W'y, boy, I could beat the oldjudge out of a thousand dollars' worth of cattle and he'd never knowit in a lifetime. Did ye ever live all alone out on a ranch for amonth or so? Well, you know how lawless and pisen-mean a man can git, then, associatin' with himself. I'd've had the old man robbed fortytimes over if he wasn't such a good-hearted old boy, but betweenfightin' sheepmen and keepin' tab on a passel of brand experts up onthe Tonto I'm gittin' so ornery I don't dare trust myself. Have asmoke? Oh, I forgot--"

He laughed awkwardly and rolled a cigarette. 

"Got a match?" he demanded austerely. "Um, much obliged--be kinderhandy to have you along now. " He knit his brows fiercely as he firedup, regarding Hardy with a furtive grin. 

"Say, " he said abruptly, "I've got to make friends with you some way. You _eat_, don't you? All right then, you come along with me over tothe Chink's. I'm going to treat you to somethin', if it's only ham 'n'eggs. "

They dined largely at Charley's and then drifted out to the feedcorral. Creede threw down some hay to a ponderous iron-scarred roan, more like a war horse than a cow pony, and when he came back he foundHardy doing as much for a clean-limbed sorrel, over by the gate. 

"Yourn?" he inquired, surveying it with the keen concentrated gazewhich stamps every point on a cowboy's memory for life. 

"Sure, " returned Hardy, patting his pony carefully upon the shoulder. 

"Kinder high-headed, ain't he?" ventured Creede, as the sorrel rolledhis eyes and snorted. 

"That's right, " assented Hardy, "he's only been broke about a month. Igot him over in the Sulphur Springs Valley. "

"I knowed it, " said the cowboy sagely, "one of them wire-grasshorses--an' I bet he can travel, too. Did you ride him all the wayhere?"

"Clean from the Chiricahuas, " replied the young man, and JeffersonCreede looked up, startled. 

"What did you say you was doin' over there?" he inquired slowly, andHardy smiled quietly as he answered:

"Riding for the Cherrycow outfit. "

"The hell you say!" exclaimed Creede explosively, and for a long timehe stood silent, smoking as if in deep meditation. 

"Well, " he said at last, "I might as well say it--I took you for atenderfoot. "

CHAPTER III

THE TRAIL OF THE SHEEP

The morning dawned as clear on Bender as if there had never been stormnor clouds, and the waxy green heads of the greasewood, dotting thelevel plain with the regularity of a vineyard, sparkled with athousand dewdrops. Ecstatic meadow larks, undismayed by the utter lackof meadows, sang love songs from the tops of the telegraph poles; andthe little Mexican ground doves that always go in pairs trackedamiably about together in the wet litter of the corral, picking up thegrain which the storm had laid bare. Before the early sun had clearedthe top of the eastern mountains Jefferson Creede and Hardy had risenand fed their horses well, and while the air was yet chill they loadedtheir blankets and supplies upon the ranch wagon, driven by ashivering Mexican, and went out to saddle up. 

Since his confession of the evening before Creede had put aside hisair of friendly patronage and, lacking another pose, had taken tosmoking in silence; for there is many a boastful cowboy in Arizona whohas done his riding for the Cherrycow outfit on the chuck wagon, swamping for the cook. At breakfast he jollied the Chinaman intogiving him two orders of everything, from coffee to hot cakes, paidfor the same at the end, and rose up like a giant refreshed--butbeneath this jovial exterior he masked a divided mind. Although he hadcome down handsomely, he still had his reservations about thewhite-handed little man from Cherrycow, and when they entered thecorral he saddled his iron-scarred charger by feeling, gazing craftilyover his back to see how Hardy would show up in action. 

Now, first the little man took a rope, and shaking out the loopdropped it carelessly against his horse's fore-feet--and that lookedwell, for the sorrel stood stiffly in his tracks, as if he had beenanchored. Then the man from Cherrycow picked up his bridle, rubbedsomething on the bit, and offered it to the horse, who graciouslybowed his head to receive it. This was a new one on Creede and in theexcitement of the moment he inadvertently cinched his roan up twoholes too tight and got nipped for it, for old Bat Wings had a mind ofhis own in such matters, and the cold air made him ugly. 

"Here, quit that, " muttered the cowboy, striking back at him; but whenhe looked up, the sorrel had already taken his bit, and while he waschamping on it Hardy had slipped the headstall over his ears. Therewas a broad leather blind on the hacamore, which was of the bestplaited rawhide with a horsehair tie rope, but the little man did nottake advantage of it to subdue his mount. Instead he reached down forhis gaudy Navajo saddle blanket, offered it to the sorrel to smell, and then slid it gently upon his back. But when he stooped for hissaddle the high-headed horse rebelled. With ears pricked suspiciouslyforward and eyes protruding he glared at the clattering thing inhorror, snorting deep at every breath. But, though he was free-footed, by some obsession of the mind, cunningly inculcated in his breaking, the sorrel pony was afraid to move. 

As the saddle was drawn toward him and he saw that he could not escapeits hateful embrace he leaned slowly back upon his haunches, gruntingas if his fore-feet, wreathed in the loose rope, were stuck in someterrible quicksands from which he tried in vain to extricate them; butwith a low murmur of indifferent words his master moved the saddleresolutely toward him, the stirrups carefully snapped up over thehorn, and ignoring his loud snorts and frenzied shakings of the headlaid it surely down upon his back. This done, he suddenly spokesharply to him, and with a final groan the beautiful creature rose upand consented to his fate. 

Hardy worked quickly now, tightening the cinch, lowering thestirrups, and gathering up the reins. He picked up the rope, coiled itdeftly and tied it to the saddle--and now, relieved of the idea thathe was noosed, the pony began to lift his feet and prance, softly, like a swift runner on the mark. At these signs of an early breakCreede mounted hurriedly and edged in, to be ready in case the sorrel, like most half-broken broncos, tried to scrape his rider off againstthe fence; but Hardy needed no wrangler to shunt him out the gate. Standing by his shoulder and facing the rear he patted the sorrel'sneck with the hand that held the reins, while with his right hand hetwisted the heavy stirrup toward him stealthily, raising his boot tomeet it. Then like a flash he clapped in his foot and, catching thehorn as his fiery pony shot forward, he snapped up into the saddlelike a jumping jack and went flying out the gate. 

"Well, the son of a gun!" muttered Creede, as he thundered down thetrail after him. "Durned if he can't ride!"

There are men in every cow camp who can rope and shoot, but the manwho can ride a wild horse can hold up his head with the best ofthem. No matter what his race or station if he will crawl a "snake"and stay with him there is always room on the wagon for hisblankets; his fame will spread quickly from camp to camp, and theboss will offer to raise him when he shows up for his time. Jefferson Creede's face was all aglow when he finally rode up besideHardy; he grinned triumphantly upon horse and man as if they had wonmoney for him in a race; and Hardy, roused at last from hisreserve, laughed back out of pure joy in his possessions. 

"How's that for a horse?" he cried, raising his voice above the thudof hoofs. "I have to turn him loose at first--'fraid he'll learn topitch if I hold him in--he's never bucked with me yet!"

"You bet--he's a snake!" yelled Creede, hammering along on hisbroad-chested roan. "Where'd you git 'im?"

"Tom Fulton's ranch, " responded Hardy, reining his horse in andpatting him on the neck. "Turned in three months' pay and broke himmyself, to boot. I'll let you try him some day, when he's gentled. "

"Well, if I wasn't so big 'n' heavy I'd take you up on that, " saidCreede, "but I'm just as much obliged, all the same. I don't claim tobe no bronco-buster now, but I used to ride some myself when I was akid. But say, the old judge has got some good horses runnin' on theupper range, --if you want to keep your hand in, --thirty or forty headof 'em, and wild as hawks. There's some sure-enough wild horses too, over on the Peaks, that belong to any man that can git his rope onto'em--how would that strike you? We've been tryin' for years to catchthe black stallion that leads 'em. "

Try as he would to minimize this exaggerated estimate of his prowessas a horse-tamer Hardy was unable to make his partner admit that hewas anything short of a real "buster, " and before they had been on thetrail an hour Creede had made all the plans for a big gather of wildhorses after the round-up. 

"I had you spotted for a sport from the start, " he said, puffing outhis chest at the memory of his acumen, "but, by jingo, I never thoughtI was drawin' a bronco-twister. Well, now, I saw you crawl that horsethis mornin', and I guess I know the real thing by this time. Say, " hesaid, turning confidentially in his saddle, "if it's none of mybusiness you can say so, but what did you do to that bit?"

Hardy smiled, like a juggler detected in his trick. "You must havebeen watching me, " he said, "but I don't mind telling you--it's simplypassing a good thing along. I learned it off of a Yaqui Mayo Indianthat had been riding for Bill Greene on the Turkey-track--I rubbed itwith a little salt. "

"Well, I'm a son of a gun!" exclaimed Creede incredulously. "Herewe've been gittin' our fingers bit off for forty years and neverthought of a little thing like that. Got any more tricks?"

"Nope, " said Hardy, "I've only been in the Territory a little over ayear, this trip, and I'm learning, myself. Funny how much you can pickup from some of these Indians and Mexicans that can't write their ownnames, isn't it?"

"Umm, may be so, " assented Creede doubtfully, "but I'd rather go to awhite man myself. Say, " he exclaimed, changing the subject abruptly, "what was that name the old man called you by when he was makin' thattalk about sheep--Roofer, or Rough House--or something like that?"

"Oh, that's my front name--Rufus. Why? What's the matter with it?"

"Nothin', I reckon, " replied Creede absently, "never happened to hearit before, 's all. I was wonderin' how he knowed it, " he added, glancing shrewdly sideways. "Thought maybe you might have met him upin California, or somewheres. "

"Oh, that's easy, " responded Hardy unblinkingly. "The first thing hedid was to ask me my full name. I notice he calls you Jefferson, " headded, shiftily changing the subject. 

"Sure thing, " agreed Creede, now quite satisfied, "he calls everybodythat way. If your name is Jim you're James, John you're Jonathan, Jeffyou're Jefferson Davis--but say, ain't they any f'r short to yourname? We're gittin' too far out of town for this Mister business. Myname's Jeff, you know, " he suggested. 

"Why, sure, " exclaimed Hardy, brushing aside any college-bredscruples, "only don't call me Rough House--they might get the ideathat I was on the fight. But you don't need to get scared ofRufus--it's just another way of saying Red. I had a red-headedancestor away back there somewhere and they called him Rufus, and thenthey passed the name down in the family until it got to me, and I'm nomore red-headed than you are. "

"_No_--is that straight?" ejaculated the cowboy, with enthusiasm, "same as we call 'em Reddy now, eh? But say, I'd choke if I tried tocall you Rufus. Will you stand for Reddy? Aw, that's no good--what'sthe matter with Rufe? Well, shake then, pardner, I'm dam' glad I metup with you. "

They pulled their horses down to a Spanish trot--that easy, limpingshuffle that eats up its forty miles a day--and rode on together likebrothers, heading for a distant pass in the mountains where thepainted cliffs of the Bulldog break away and leave a gap down to theriver. To the east rose Superstition Mountain, that huge buttress uponwhich, since the day that a war party of Pimas disappeared within theshadow of its pinnacles, hot upon the trail of the Apaches, and neverreturned again, the Indians of the valley have always looked withsuperstitious dread. 

Creede told the story carelessly, smiling at the pride of the Pimaswho refused to admit that the Apaches alone, devils and bad medicinebarred, could have conquered so many of their warriors. To the west ina long fringe of green loomed the cottonwoods of Moroni, where thehard-working Mormons had turned the Salagua from its course andirrigated the fertile plain, and there on their barren reservationdwelt the remnant of those warlike Pimas, the unrequited friends ofthe white men, now held by them as of no account. 

As he heard the history of its people--how the Apaches had wiped outthe Toltecs, and the white men had killed off the Apaches, and then, after pushing aside the Pimas and the Mexicans, closed in a deathstruggle for the mastery of the range--Hardy began to perceive thegrim humor of the land. He glanced across at his companion, tall, stalwart, with mighty arms and legs and features rugged as a mountaincrag, and his heart leaped up within him at the thought of the battlesto come, battles in which sheepmen and cattlemen, defiant of the law, would match their strength and cunning in a fight for the open range. 

As they rode along mile after mile toward the north the road mountedgently; hills rose up one by one out of the desert floor, crowned withtowering _sahuaros_, and in the dip of the pass ahead a mighty forestof their misshapen stalks was thrust up like giant fingers against thehorizon. The trail wound in among them, where they rose like flutedcolumns above the lesser cactus--great skin-covered tanks, gorged fatwith water too bitter to quench the fieriest thirst, yet guardedjealously by poison-barbed spines. Gilded woodpeckers, with hearts redas blood painted upon their breasts, dipped in uneven flight from_sahuaro_ to _sahuaro_, dodged into holes of their own making, dugdeep into the solid flesh; sparrow hawks sailed forth from theirsummits, with quick eyes turned to the earth for lizards; and thebrown mocking bird, leaping for joy from the ironwood tree where hismate was nesting, whistled the praise of the desert in the ecstaticnotes of love. In all that land which some say God forgot, there wasnaught but life and happiness, for God had sent the rain. 

The sun was high in the heavens when, as they neared the summit ofthe broad pass, a sudden taint came down the wind, whose only burdenhad been the fragrance of resinous plants, of wetted earth, and ofgreen things growing. A distant clamor, like the babble of manyvoices or the surf-beats of a mighty sea, echoed dimly between the_chuck-a-chuck_ of their horses' feet, and as Hardy glanced upinquiringly his companion's lip curled and he muttered:

"Sheep!"

They rode on in silence. The ground, which before had been furred withIndian wheat and sprouting six weeks' grass, now showed the imprintsof many tiny feet glozed over by the rain, and Hardy noticed vaguelythat something was missing--the grass was gone. Even where a minutebefore it had covered the level flats in a promise of maturity, risingup in ranker growth beneath the thorny trees and cactus, its place wasnow swept bare and all the earth trampled into narrow, hard-tampedtrail. Then as a brush shed and corrals, with a cook tent and a coupleof water wagons in the rear, came into view, the ground went suddenlystone bare, stripped naked and trampled smooth as a floor. Neverbefore had Hardy seen the earth so laid waste and desolate, the verycactus trimmed down to its woody stump and every spear of root grasssearched out from the shelter of the spiny _chollas_. He glanced oncemore at his companion, whose face was sullen and unresponsive; therewas a well-defined bristle to his short mustache and he rowelled hishorse cruelly when he shied at the blatting horde. 

The shearing was in full blast, every man working with such feverishindustry that not one of them stopped to look up. From the receivingcorral three Mexicans in slouched hats and jumpers drove the sheepinto a broad chute, yelling and hurling battered oil cans at thehindmost; by the chute an American punched them vigorously forwardwith a prod, and yet another thrust them into the pens behind theshearers, who bent to their work with a sullen, back-breaking stoop. Each man held between his knees a sheep, gripped relentlessly, thatflinched and kicked at times when the shears clipped off patches offlesh; and there in the clamor of a thousand voices they shuttledtheir keen blades unceasingly, stripping off a fleece, throwing itaside, and seizing a fresh victim by the foot, toiling and sweatinggrimly. By another chute a man stood with a paint pot, stamping afresh brand upon every new-shorn sheep, and in a last corral the nakedones, their white hides spotted with blood from their cuts, blattedfrantically for their lambs. These were herded in a small inclosure, some large and browned with the grime of the flock, others white andwobbly, newborn from mothers frightened in the shearing; and alwaysthat tremendous wailing chorus--_Ba-a-a_, _ba-a-a_, _ba-a-a_--and menin greasy clothes wrestling with the wool. 

To a man used to the noise and turmoil of the round-up and brandingpen and accustomed to the necessary cruelties of stock raising therewas nothing in the scene to attract attention. But Hardy was ofgentler blood, inured to the hardships of frontier life but not to itsunthinking brutality, and as he beheld for the first time the waste, the hurry, the greed of it all, his heart turned sick and his eyesglowed with pity, like a woman's. By his side the sunburned swarthygiant who had taken him willy-nilly for a friend sat unmoved, his lipcurled, not at the pity of it, but because they were sheep; andbecause, among the men who rushed about driving them with clubs andsacks, he saw more than one who had eaten at his table and thensheeped out his upper range. His saturnine mood grew upon him as hewaited and, turning to Hardy, he shouted harshly:

"There's some of your friends over yonder, " he said, jerking his thumbtoward a group of men who were weighing the long sacks of wool. "Wantto go over and get acquainted?"

Hardy woke from his dream abruptly and shook his head. 

"No, let's not stop, " he said, and Creede laughed silently as hereined Bat Wings into the trail. But just as they started to go one ofthe men by the scales hailed them, motioning with his hand and, stilllaughing cynically, the foreman of the Dos S turned back again. 

"That's Jim Swope, " he said, "one of our big sheep men--nicefeller--you'll like him. "

He led the way to the weighing scales, where two sweating Mexicanstumbled the eight-foot bags upon the platform, and a burly man with aScotch turn to his tongue called off the weights defiantly. At hiselbow stood two men, the man who had called them and a woolbuyer, --each keeping tally of the count. 

Jim Swope glanced quickly up from his work. He was a man not overforty but bent and haggard, with a face wrinkled deep with hard lines, yet lighted by blue eyes that still held a twinkle of grim humor. 

"Hello, Jeff, " he said, jotting down a number in his tally book, "goin' by without stoppin', was ye? Better ask the cook for somethin'to eat. Say, you're goin' up the river, ain't ye? Well, tell PabloMoreno and them Mexicans I lost a cut of two hundred sheep up theresomewhere. That son of a--of a herder of mine was too lazy to make acorral and count 'em, so I don't know where they are lost, but I'llgive two bits a head for 'em, delivered here. Tell the old man that, will you?"

He paused to enter another weight in his book, then stepped away fromthe scales and came out to meet them. 

"How's the feed up your way?" he inquired, smiling grimly. 

"Dam' pore, " replied Creede, carrying on the jest, "and it'll bepoorer still if you come in on me, so keep away. Mr. Swope, I'll makeyou acquainted with Mr. Hardy--my new boss. Judge Ware has sent himout to be superintendent for the Dos S. "

"Glad to meet you, sir, " said Swope, offering a greasy hand thatsmelled of sheep dip. "Nice man, the old judge--here, _umbre_, putthat bag on straight! Three hundred and _fifteen_? Well I know a dam'sight better--excuse me, boys--here, put that bag on again, and weighit right!"

"Well, " observed Creede, glancing at his friend as the combat ragedunremittingly, "I guess we might as well pull. His busy day, youunderstand. Nice feller, though--you'll like 'im. " Once more the glintof quiet deviltry came into his eyes, but he finished out the jestsoberly. "Comes from a nice Mormon family down in Moroni--sixbrothers--all sheepmen. You'll see the rest of the boys when they comethrough next month--but Jim's the best. "

There was something in the sardonic smile that accompanied thisencomium which set Hardy thinking. Creede must have been thinking too, for he rode past the kitchen without stopping, cocking his head up atthe sun as if estimating the length of their journey. 

"Oh, did you want to git somethin' to eat?" he inquired innocently. "No? That's good. That sheep smell kinder turns my stomach. " Andthrowing the spurs into Bat Wings he loped rapidly toward the summit, scowling forbiddingly in passing at a small boy who was shepherdingthe stray herd. For a mile or two he said nothing, swinging his headto scan the sides of the mountains with eyes as keen as an eagle's;then, on the top of the last roll, he halted and threw his hand outgrandly at the panorama which lay before them. 

"There she lays, " he said, as if delivering a funeral oration, "asgood a cow country as God ever made--and now even the jack rabbitshave left it. D'ye see that big mesa down there?" he continued, pointing to a broad stretch of level land, dotted here and there withgiant cactus, which extended along the river. "I've seen a thousandhead of cattle, fat as butter, feedin' where you see them _sahuaros_, and now look at it!"

He threw out his hand again in passionate appeal, and Hardy saw thatthe mesa was empty. 

"There was grass a foot high, " cried Creede in a hushed, sustainedvoice, as if he saw it again, "and flowers. Me and my brothers andsisters used to run out there about now and pick all kinds, bigyaller poppies and daisies, and these here little pansies--andferget-me-nots. God! I wish I could ferget 'em--but I've beenfightin' these sheep so long and gittin' so mean and ugly them flowerswouldn't mean no more to me now than a bunch of jimson weeds andstink squashes. But hell, what's the use?" He threw out his hands oncemore, palms up, and dropped them limply. 

"That's old Pablo Moreno's place down there, " he said, falling backabruptly into his old way. "We'll stop there overnight--I want to helpgit that wagon across the river when Rafael comes in bymeby, and we'llgo up by trail in the mornin'. "

Once more he fell into his brooding silence, looking up at the nakedhills from habit, for there were no cattle there. And Rufus Hardy, quick to understand, gazed also at the arid slopes, where once thegrama had waved like tawny hair in the soft winds and the cattle ofJeff Creede's father had stood knee-high in flowers. 

Now at last the secret of Arizona-the-Lawless and Arizona-the-Desertlay before him: the feed was there for those who could take it, andthe sheep were taking it all. It was government land, only there wasno government; anybody's land, to strip, to lay waste, to desolate, tohog for and fight over forever--and no law of right; only this, thatthe best fighter won. Thoughts came up into his mind, as thoughts willin the silence of the desert; memories of other times and places, aword here, a scene there, having no relation to the matter in hand;and then one flashed up like the premonitions of the superstitious--averse from the Bible that he had learned at his mother's knee manyyears before:

"Crying, Peace, Peace, when there is no peace. "

But he put it aside lightly, as a man should, for if one followedevery vagrant fancy and intuition, taking account of signs and omens, he would slue and waver in his course like a toy boat in a mill pond, which after great labor and adventure comes, in the end, to nothing. 

CHAPTER IV

DON PABLO MORENO

On the edge of the barren mesa and looking out over the sandy flatswhere the Salagua writhed about uneasily in its bed, the _casa_ of DonPablo Moreno stood like a mud fort, barricaded by a palisade of thethorny cactus which the Mexicans call _ocotilla_. Within this fence, which inclosed several acres of standing grain and the miniature of agarden, there were all the signs of prosperity--a new wagon under itsproper shade, a storehouse strongly built where chickens lingeredabout for grain, a clean-swept _ramada_ casting a deep shadow acrossthe open doorway; but outside the inclosure the ground was stamped aslevel as a threshing floor. As Creede and Hardy drew near, an old man, grave and dignified, came out from the shady veranda and opened thegate, bowing with the most courtly hospitality. 

"_Buenos tardes, señores_, " he pronounced, touching his hat in amilitary salute. "_Pasa!_ Welcome to my poor house. "

In response to these salutations Creede made the conventionalreplies, and then as the old man stood expectant he said in a hurriedaside to Hardy:

"D'ye talk Spanish? He don't understand a word of English. "

"Sure, " returned Hardy. "I was brought up on it!"

"No!" exclaimed Creede incredulously, and then, addressing the SeñorMoreno in his native tongue, he said: "Don Pablo, this is my friendSeñor Hardy, who will live with me at Agua Escondida!"

"With great pleasure, señor, " said the old gentleman, removing hishat, "I make your acquaintance!"

"The pleasure is mine, " replied Hardy, returning the salutation, andat the sound of his own language Don Pablo burst into renewedprotestations of delight. Within the cool shadow of his _ramada_ heoffered his own chair and seated himself in another, neatly fashionedof mesquite wood and strung with thongs of rawhide. Then, turning hisvenerable head to the doorway which led to the inner court, he shoutedin a terrible voice:

"_Muchacho_!"

Instantly from behind the adobe wall, around the corner of which hehad been slyly peeping, a black-eyed boy appeared and stood beforehim, his ragged straw hat held respectfully against his breast. 

"_Sus manos!_" roared the old man; and dropping his hat the_muchacho_ touched his hands before him in an attitude of prayer. 

"Give the gentlemen a drink!" commanded Don Pablo severely, and afterHardy had accepted the gourd of cold water which the boy dipped from aporous _olla_, resting in the three-pronged fork of a trimmedmesquite, the old gentleman called for his tobacco. This the _mozo_brought in an Indian basket wrought by the Apaches who live across theriver--Bull Durham and brown paper. The señor offered these to hisguest, while Creede grinned in anticipation of the outcome. 

"What?" exclaimed the Señor Moreno, astounded. "You do not smoke? Ah, perhaps it is my poor tobacco! But wait, I have a cigarro which thestorekeeper gave me when I--No? No smoke nothing? Ah, well, well--nosmoke, no Mexicano, as the saying goes. " He regarded his guestdoubtfully, with a shadow of disfavor. Then, rolling a cigarette, heremarked: "You have a very white skin, Señor Hardy; I think you havenot been in Arizona very long. "

"Only a year, " replied Hardy modestly. 

"_Muchacho!_" cried the señor. "Run and tell the señora to hasten thedinner. And where, " he inquired, with the shrewd glance of a countrylawyer, "and where did you learn, then, this excellent Spanish whichyou speak?"

"At Old Camp Verde, to the north, " replied Hardy categorically, and atthe name Creede looked up with sudden interest. "I lived there when Iwas a boy. "

"Indeed!" exclaimed Don Pablo, raising his eyebrows. "And were yourparents with you?"

"Oh, yes, " answered Hardy, "my father was an officer at the post. "

"Ah, _sí_, _sí_, _sí_, " nodded the old man vigorously, "now Iunderstand. Your father fought the Apaches and you played with thelittle Mexican boys, no? But now your skin is white--you have notlived long under our sun. When the Apaches were conquered your parentsmoved, of course--they are in San Francisco now, perhaps, or NuevoYork. "

"My father is living near San Francisco, " admitted Hardy, "but, " andhis voice broke a little at the words, "my mother has been dead manyyears. "

"Ah, indeed, " exclaimed Don Pablo sympathetically, "I am very sorry. My own _madre_ has been many years dead also. But what think you ofour country? Is it not beautiful?"

"Yes, indeed, " responded Hardy honestly, "and you have a wonderful airhere, very sweet and pure. "

"_Seguro!_" affirmed the old man, "_seguro que sí!_ But alas, " headded sadly, "one cannot live on air alone. Ah, _que malo_, how badthese sheep are!"

He sighed, and regarded his guest sadly with eyes that were bloodshotfrom long searching of the hills for cattle. 

"I remember the day when the first sheep came, " he said, in the mannerof one who begins a set narration. "In the year of '91 the rain came, more, more, more, until the earth was full and the excess made_lagunas_ on the plain. That year the Salagua left all bounds andswept my fine fields of standing corn away, but we did not regret itbeyond reason for the grass came up on the mesas high as a horse'sbelly, and my cattle and those of my friend Don Luís, the good fatherof Jeff, here, spread out across the plains as far as the eye couldsee, and every cow raised her calf. But look! On the next year no raincame, and the river ran low, yet the plains were still yellow withlast year's grass. All would have been well now as before, with grassfor all, when down from the north like grasshoppers came the_borregos_--_baaa_, _baaa_, _baaa_--thousands of them, and they werestarving. Never had I seen bands of sheep before in Arizona, nor thefather of Don Jeff, but some say they had come from California in '77, when the drought visited there, and had increased in Yavapai and fedout all the north country until, when this second _año seco_ cameupon them, there was no grass left to eat. And now, _amigo_, I willtell you one thing, and you may believe it, for I am an old man andhave dwelt here long: it is not God who sends the dry years, but thesheep!

"_Mira!_ I have seen the mowing machine of the Americano cut the tallgrass and leave all level--so the starved sheep of Yavapai sweptacross our mesa and left it bare. Yet was there feed for all, for ourcattle took to the mountains and browsed higher on the bushes, abovewhere the sheep could reach; and the sheep went past and spread out onthe southern desert and were lost in it, it was so great. 

"That was all, you will say--but no! In the Spring every ewe had herlamb, and many two, and they grew fat and strong, and when the grassbecame dry on the desert because the rains had failed again, they cameback, seeking their northern range where the weather was cool, for asheep cannot endure the heat. Then we who had let them pass in pitywere requited after the way of the _borregueros_--we were sheeped out, down to the naked rocks, and the sheepmen went on, laughinginsolently. _Ay, que malo los borregueros_, what devils they are; forhunger took the strength from our cows so that they could not suckletheir calves, and in giving birth many mothers and their little onesdied together. In that year we lost half our cows, Don Luís Creede andI, and those that lived became thin and rough, as they are to thisday, from journeying to the high mountains for feed and back to thefar river for water. 

"Then the father of Jeff became very angry, so that he lost weight andhis face became changed, and he took an oath that the first sheep orsheep-herder that crossed his range should be killed, and every onethereafter, as long as he should live. Ah, what a _buen hombre_ wasDon Luís--if we had one man like him to-day the sheep would yet goround--a big man, with a beard, and he had no fear, no not for ahundred men. And when in November the sheep came bleating back, forthey had promised so to do as soon as the feed was green, Don Luís metthem at the river, and he rode along its bank, night and day, promising all the same fate who should come across--and, _umbre_, thesheep went round!"

The old man slapped his leg and nodded his head solemnly. Then helooked across at Creede and his voice took on a great tenderness. "Myfriend has been dead these many years, " he said, "but he was a trueman. "

As Don Pablo finished his story the Señora opened the door of thekitchen where the table was already set with boiled beans, meat stewedwith peppers, and thin corn cakes--the conventional _frijoles_, _carnecon chili_, and _tortillas_ of the Mexicans--and some fried eggs inhonor of the company. As the meal progressed the Señora maintained adiscreet silence, patting out _tortillas_ and listening politely toher husband's stock of stories, for Don Pablo was lord in his ownhouse. The big-eyed _muchacho_ sat in the corner, watching the corncakes cook on the top of the stove and battening on the successiverations which were handed out to him. There were stories, as they ate, of the old times, of the wars and revolutions of Sonora, wherein theSeñor Moreno had taken too brave a part, as his wounds and exileshowed; strange tales of wonders and miracles wrought by the Indiandoctors of Altár; of sacred snakes with the sign of the cross blazonedin gold on their foreheads, worshipped by the Indians with offeringsof milk and tender chickens; of primitive life on the _haciendas_ ofSonora, where men served their masters for life and were rewarded atthe end with a pension of beans and _carne seco_. 

Then as the day waned they sat at peace in the _ramada_, Moreno andCreede smoking, and Hardy watching the play of colors as the suntouched the painted crags of the Bulldog and lighted up the squaresummit of Red Butte across the river, throwing mysterious shadows intothe black gorge which split it from crown to base. Between that highcliff and the cleft red butte flowed the Salagua, squirming throughits tortuous cañon, and beyond them lay Hidden Water, the unknown, whither a single man was sent to turn back the tide of sheep. 

In the silence the tinkle of bells came softly from up the cañon andthrough the dusk Hardy saw a herd of goats, led by a long-horned ram, trailing slowly down from the mesa. They did not pause, either to rearup on their hind feet for browse or to snoop about the gate, but fileddutifully into their own corral and settled down for the night. 

"Your goats are well trained, Don Pablo, " said Hardy, by way ofconversation. "They come home of their own accord. "

"Ah, no, " protested Moreno, rising from his chair. "It is not thegoats but my goat dogs that are well trained. Come with me while Iclose the gate and I will show you my flock. "

The old gentleman walked leisurely down the trail to the corral, andat their approach Hardy saw two shaggy dogs of no breed suddenlydetach themselves from the herd and spring defiantly forward. 

"_Quita se, quita se!"_ commanded Don Pablo, and at his voice theyhalted, still growling and baring their fangs at Hardy. 

"_Mira_, " exclaimed the old man, "are they not _bravo_? Many times the_borregueros_ have tried to steal my bucks to lead their timid sheepacross the river, but Tira and Diente fight them like devils. OneSummer for a week the _chivas_ did not return, having wandered far upinto the mountains, but in the end Tira and Diente fetched them safelyhome. See them now, lying down by the mother goat that suckled them;you would not believe it, but they think they are goats. "

He laughed craftily at the idea, and at Hardy's eager questions. 

"_Seguro_, " he said, "surely I will tell you about my goat dogs, foryou Americans often think the Mexicans are _tonto_, having no goodsense, because our ways are different. When I perceived that my cattlewere doomed by reason of the sheep trail crossing the river here at myfeet I bought me a she-goat with kids, and a ram from another flock. These I herded myself along the brow of the hill, and they soonlearned to rear up against the bushes and feed upon the browse whichthe sheep could not reach. Thus I thought that I might in time conquerthe sheep, fighting the devil with fire; but the coyotes lay in waitconstantly to snatch the kids, and once when the river was high the_borregueros_ of Jeem Swopa stole my buck to lead their sheep across. 

"Then I remembered a trick of my own people in Sonora, and I took theblind pups of a dog, living far from here, and placed each of themwith a she-goat having one newborn kid; and while the kid was suckingat one teat the mother could not help but let down milk for the puppyat the other, until at last when the dog smell had left him sheadopted him for her own. Now as the pups grew up they went out on thehills with their goat mother, and when, they being grown, she would nolonger suckle them, they stole milk from the other she-goats; and sothey live to-day, on milk and what rabbits they can catch. Butwhenever they come to the house I beat them and drive them back--theirnature is changed now, and they love only goats. Eight years ago Iraised my first goat dogs, for many of them desert their mothers andbecome house dogs, and now I have over a hundred goats, which theylead out morning and night. "

The old man lashed fast the gate to the corral and turned back towardthe house. 

"Ah, yes, " he said musingly, "the Americanos say continually that weMexicanos are foolish--but look at me! Here is my good home, the sameas before. I have always plenty beans, plenty meat, plenty flour, plenty coffee. I welcome every one to my house, to eat and sleep--yetI have plenty left. I am _muy contento_, Señor Hardy--yes, I am alwayshappy. But the Americanos? No! When the sheep come, they fight; whentheir cattle are gone, they move; fight, fight; move, move; all thetime. " He sighed and gazed wearily at the barren hills. 

"Señor Hardy, " he said at last, "you are young, yet you have seen thegreat world--perhaps you will understand. Jeff tells me you come totake charge of the Dos S Rancho, where the sheep come through bythousands, even as they did here when there was grass. I am an old mannow; I have lived on this spot twenty-four years and seen much of thesheep; let me advise you. 

"When the sheepmen come across the river do not fight, as Don Jeffdoes continually, but let them pass. They are many and the cowmen arefew; they are rich and we are very poor; how then can a few men whipmany, and those armed with the best? And look--if a sheepman is killedthere is the law, you know, and lawyers--yes, and money!" He shruggedhis shoulders and threw out his hands, peeping ruefully through thefingers to symbolize prison bars. 

"Is it not so?" he asked, and for the first time an Americano agreedwith him. 

"One thing more, then, " said Don Pablo, lowering his voice andglancing toward the house, where Creede was conversing with theSeñora. "The _papá_ of Don Jeff yonder was a good man, but he was afighting Texano--and Jeff is of the same blood. Each year as the sheepcome through I have fear for him, lest he should kill some saucy_borreguero_ and be sent to prison; for he has angry fits, like hisfather, and there are many bad men among the sheep-herders, --escapedcriminals from Old Mexico, _ladrones_, and creatures of low blood, fathered by evil Americanos and the nameless women of towns. 

"In Sonora we would whip them from our door, but the sheepmen makemuch of their herders, calling them brothers and _cuñados_ and whatnot, to make them stay, since the work is hard and dangerous. And toevery one of them, whether herder or camp rustler, the owners give arifle with ammunition, and a revolver to carry always. So they aredrunk with valor. But our Jeff here has no fear of them, no, nordecent respect. He overrides them when the fit is on him, as if theywere unfanged serpents--and so far he has escaped. "

The old man leaned closer, and lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper, acting out his words dramatically. 

"But some day--" he clasped his heart, closed his eyes, and seemed tolurch before a bullet. "No?" he inquired, softly. "Ah, well, then, youmust watch over him, for he is a good man, doing many friendships, andhis father was a _buen hombre_, too, in the days when we all wererich. So look after him--for an old man, " he added, and trudgedwearily back to the house. 

CHAPTER V

HIDDEN WATER

The trail to Hidden Water leads up the Salagua, alternately climbingthe hard mesa and losing itself in the shifting sand of the riverbottom until, a mile or two below the mouth of the box cañon, itswings in to the edge of the water. But the Salagua is no purlingbrook, dignified by a bigger name; it is not even a succession of millponds like the dammed-up streams of the East: in its own name theSalagua is a _Rio_, broad and swift, with a current that clutchestreacherously at a horse's legs and roars over the brink of stonyreefs in a long, fretful line of rapids. At the head of a broad millrace, where the yellow flood waters boiled sullenly before they tooktheir plunge, Creede pulled up and surveyed the river doubtfully. 

"Swim?" he inquired, and when Hardy nodded he shrugged his shouldersand turned his horse into the water. "Keep your head upstream, then, "he said, "we'll try it a whirl, anyhow. "

Head to tail the two horses plodded heavily across the ford, feelingtheir way among the submerged bowlders, while twenty feet below themthe irresistible onrush of the current slipped smoothly over the rim, sending up a roar like the thunder of breakers. As they struggled upthe opposite bank after a final slump into a narrow ditch Creedelooked back and laughed merrily at his bedraggled companion. 

"How's that for high?" he inquired, slapping his wet legs. "I tellyou, the old Salagua is a hell-roarer when she gits started. Iwouldn't cross there this afternoon for a hundred dollars. She's awayup since we took the wagon over last night, but about to-morrow you'llhear her talk--snow's meltin' on the mountains. I wish to God she'd_stay_ up!" he added fervently, as he poured the water out of hisboots. 

"Why?" asked Hardy innocently. "Won't it interfere with your bringingin supplies?"

"Sure thing, " said Creede, and then he laughed maliciously. "But whenyou've been up here a while, " he observed, "you'll savvy a lot ofthings that look kinder curious. If the old river would git up on itshind legs and walk, forty feet high, and stay there f'r a month, wecowmen would simply laugh ourselves to death. We don't give a dam' forsupplies as long as it keeps the sheep out. 

"Begin to see light, eh?" he queried, as he pushed on up the river. "Well, that's the only thing in God's world that wasn't made to orderfor these sheepmen; the old Salagua cuts right square across thecountry east and west without consultin' nobody, not even Jim Swope, and the sheep move north and south. 

"How'd you like to have the job of crossing a hundred thousand_borregos_ and half of 'em with lambs, when the _rio_ was on a bender?I've seen some of these sheepmen wadin' around up to their chins fortwo weeks, tryin' to float twenty-five hundred head across theriver--and there wasn't turkey buzzards enough in the country whenthey got through. 

"Last year they had the sand bars up around Hidden Water lined withcarcasses two deep where they'd jest naturally crowded 'em into theriver and let 'em sink or swim. Them Chihuahua Mexicans, you savvy. After they'd wore out their shoes and froze their marrow-bones wadin'they got tired and shoved 'em in, regardless. Well, if this warmweather holds we'll be able to git our _rodér_ good and started beforethe sheep come in. That's one reason why I never was able to do muchwith these sheepmen, " he added. "They hit me right square in themiddle of the round-up, Spring and Fall, when I'm too busy gatherin'cattle to pay much attention to 'em. I did plan a little surpriseparty last year--but that was somethin' special. But now you're on thejob, Rufe, " he continued reassuringly, "I'm goin' to leave all sheepand sheepmen strictly alone--you can bank on that. Bein' as we aregoin' to try the expeeriment I want to see it done right. I never madea cent fightin' 'em, that's a cinch, and if you can appeal to theirbetter natures, w'y, go to it! I'd help you if I could, but bein' as Ican't I'll git out of the road and give you a chanst. 

"Now I'll tell you how it'll be, " he continued, turning in his saddleand hooking one leg over the horn, "the boys'll come in for the_rodér_ to-morrow or next day; we begin to gather on the first, and ittakes us about a month. Well, we look for the sheep to come in on usat about the same time--first of April--and we ain't been fooled yet. They'll begin to stack up on the other side any time now, and as soonas the water goes down they'll come across with a rush. And if they'refeelin' good-natured they'll spread out over The Rolls and driftnorth, but if they're feelin' bad they'll sneak up onto Bronco Mesaand scatter the cattle forty ways for Sunday, and bust up my _rodér_and raise hell generally. We had a little trouble over that lastyear, " he added parenthetically. 

"Well, I'll turn over the house and the grub and the whole business toyou this year and camp out with the boys under the mesquite--and thenyou can entertain them sheepmen and jolly 'em up no end. They won'thave a dam' thing--horse feed, grub, tobacco, matches, nothin'! Neverdo have anythin'. I'd rather have a bunch of Apaches camped next tome--but if you want to be good to 'em there's your chanst. Meanwhile, I'm only a cow-punch pullin' off a round-up, and your name isMr. --you're the superintendent of the Dos S. Your job is to protectthe upper range, and I begin to think you can do it. "

There was a tone of half-hearted enthusiasm about this talk whichmarked it for a prepared "spiel, " laboriously devised to speed the newsuperintendent upon his way; but, not being schooled in social deceit, Creede failed utterly in making it convincing. 

"That's good, " said Hardy, "but tell me--what has been your custom inthe past? Haven't you been in the habit of feeding them when they camein?"

"Feed 'em?" cried Creede, flaring up suddenly. "Did I feed 'em? Well, I should guess yes--I never turned one away hungry in my life. W'y, hell, man, " he exclaimed, his anger growing on him, "I slep' in thesame blanket with 'em--until I become lousy, " he added grimly. 

"What!" exclaimed Hardy, aghast. "You don't mean to say--"

"No, " interrupted Creede ironically, "I don't mean to say anythin'--notfrom now on. But while we're on the subject and to avoid any futuremisunderstandin' I might just as well tell you right now that Ican't see nothin' good in a sheepman--_nothin'!_ I'm like my cat Tomwhen he sees a rattlesnake, my hair bushes up clean over my ears andI see hell, damnation, and sudden death!"

He rose up, frowning, on his mighty horse and gazed at Hardy with eyesthat burned deep with passion. "If every sheep and sheepman in Arizonashould drop dead at this minute, " he said, "it would simply give me alaughin' sensation. God damn 'em!" he added passionately, and itsounded like a prayer. 

Half an hour later as they passed through the gloomy silence of thebox cañon, picking their way over rocks and bowlders and driftwoodcast forty feet above the river level in some terrific glut of waters, he began to talk again, evenly and quietly, pointing out indifferentthings along the trail, and when at last they mounted the hill andlooked down upon Hidden Water his anger was forgotten. 

"Well, " he remarked, throwing out a hand, "there's home--how do youlike it?"

Hardy paused and looked it over critically--a broad V-shaped valleyhalf a mile in length, beginning at the mouth of a great dry wash andspreading out through trees and hummocks down to the river. A brokenrow of cottonwoods and sycamores stretched along the farther side, following the broad, twisting bed of the sand wash where the lastflood had ripped its way to the Salagua; and on the opposite side, close up against the base of the cliff, a flash of white walls and theshadow of a _ramada_ showed where man had built his puny dwelling highin order to escape its fury. At their feet lay the ranch pasture, abroad elbow of the valley rich with grass and mesquite trees andfenced in with barbed wire that ran from cliff to cliff. Beyond theeastern wall the ground was rough and broken, cut up by innumerablegulches and waterways, and above its ridges there rose the forbiddingcrags of a black butte whose shoulders ran down to and confined thesilvery river. Across the river and to the south the land was evenrougher, rising in sheer precipices, above the crests of which towereda mighty needle of rock, standing out against the sky like a cathedralspire, yet of a greater dignity and magnificence--purple with theregal robes of distance. 

"That's Weaver's Needle, " volunteered Creede, following hiscompanion's eyes. "Every lost mine for a hundred miles around here islocated by sightin' at that peak. The feller it's named after waspicked up by the Apaches while he was out lookin' for the LostDutchman and there's been a Jonah on the hidden-treasure business eversince, judgin' by the results. 

"D'ye see that big butte straight ahead? That's Black Butte. She's sorough that even the mountain sheep git sore-footed, so they say--wehave to go up there on foot and drive our cattle down with rocks. OldBill Johnson's place is over the other side of that far butte; he'sgot a fine rich valley over there--the sheep haven't got in on himyet. You remember that old feller that was drunk down at Bender--well, that's Bill. Calls his place Hell's Hip Pocket; you wait till you tryto git in there some day and you'll know why. "

He paused and turned to the north. 

"Might as well give you the lay of the land, " he said. "I'll be toobusy to talk for the next month. There's the Four Peaks, northeast ofus, and our cows run clean to the rocks. They's more different brandsin that forty miles than you saw in the whole Cherrycow country, I betye. I've got five myself on a couple hundred head that the old manleft me--and everybody else the same way. You see, when the sheep comein down on the desert and around Moreno's we kept pushin' what wasleft of our cattle east and east until we struck the Peaks--and herewe are, in a corner. The old judge has got nigh onto two thousandhead, but they's about twenty of us poor devils livin' up here in therocks that has got enough irons and ear marks to fill a brand book, and not a thousand head among us. 

"Well, I started out to show you the country, didn't I? You see thatbluff back of the house down there? That runs from here clean to theFour Peaks without a break, and then it swings west in a kind of an oxbow and makes that long ridge up there to the north that we called theJuate. All that high country between our house here and thePeaks--everythin' east of that long bluff--is Bronco Mesa. That's theupper range the judge asked me to point out to you. Everythin' west ofBronco Mesa is The Rolls--all them rollin' hills out there--and they'sfeed enough out there to keep all the sheep in the country, twiceover--but no water. Now what makes us cowmen hot is, after we've give'em that country and welcome, the sheepmen're all the time tryin' tosneak in on our upper range. Our cows can't hardly make a livin'walkin' ten or fifteen miles out on The Rolls every day, and then backagain to water; but them dam' sheep can go a week without drinkin', and as much as a month in the winter-time. 

"Why can't they give us a chanst, then? We _give_ 'em all the goodlevel land and simply ask 'em as a favor to please keep off of thebench up there and leave our cows what little cactus and browse theyis. But no--seems like as soon as you give one of them ChihuahuaMexicans a gun he wants to git a fight out of somebody, and so theycome crowdin' in across our dead line, just to see if they can't gitsome of us goin'. "

Once more his eyes were burning, his breath came hard, and his voicebecame high and sustained. "Well, I give one of 'em all he wanted, " hesaid, "and more. I took his dam' pistol away and beat him over thehead with it--and I _moved_ him, too. He was Jasper Swope's pet, and Ireckon he had his orders, but I noticed the rest went round. "

He stopped abruptly and sat silent, twisting his horse's maneuneasily. Then he looked up, smiling curiously. 

"If you hadn't come up this year I would've killed some of themfellers, " he said quietly. "I'm gittin' as crazy as old BillJohnson--and he hears voices. But now lookee here, Rufe, you don'twant to believe a word I say about this trouble. Don't you pay anyattention to me; I'm bughouse, and I know it. Jest don't mention sheepto me and I'll be as happy as an Injun on a mescal jag. Come on, I'llrun you to the house!"

Throwing his weight forward he jumped his big horse down the rockytrail and went thundering across the flat, whooping and laughing andswinging under mesquite trees as if his whole heart was in the race. Catching the contagion Hardy's sorrel dashed madly after him, and themoment they struck the open he went by like a shot, over-running thegoal and dancing around the low adobe house like a circus horse. 

"By Joe, " exclaimed Creede as he came up, "that _caballo_ of yours canrun some. I'm goin' to make a little easy money off of Bill Lightfootwhen he comes in. He's been blowin' about that gray of his for twoyears now and I'll match you ag'inst him for a yearlin'. And don't youforgit, boy, we're going after that black stallion up on Bronco Mesajust as soon as the _rodér_ is over. "

His face was all aglow with friendliness and enthusiasm now, but asthey started toward the house, after turning their horses into thecorral, he suddenly stopped short in the trail. 

"Gee, " he said, "I wonder what's keepin' Tom? Here Tom! Heere Tom!Pussy, pussy, pussy!" He listened, and called again. "I hope thecoyotes ain't caught him while I was gone, " he said at length. "Theytreed him a few times last year, but he just stayed up there andyelled until I came--spoiled his voice callin' so long, but you bet hecan purr, all right. "

He listened once more, long and anxiously, then his face lit upsuddenly. 

"Hear that?" he asked, motioning toward the bluff, and while Hardy wasstraining his ears a stunted black cat with a crook in his tail cameinto view, racing in wildly from the great pile of fallen bowldersthat lay at the base of the cliff, and yowling in a hoarse, despairingvoice, like a condemned kitten in a sack. 

"Hello, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!" cried Creede, and as the cat stoppedabruptly, blinking warily at Hardy, he strode forward and gathered itgently into his arms. "Well, you poor little devil, " he exclaimed, stroking its rough coat tenderly, "you're all chawed up again! Didthem dam' coyotes try to git you while I was gone?" And with manyprofane words of endearment he hugged it against his breast, unashamed. 

"There's the gamiest cat in Arizona, " he said, bringing him over toHardy with conscious pride. "Whoa, kitten, he won't hurt you. Doggedif he won't tackle a rattlesnake, and kill 'im, too. I used to beafraid to git out of bed at night without puttin' on my boots, but ifany old rattler crawls under my cot now it's good-bye, Mr. Snake. Tommy is right there with the goods--and he ain't been bit yet, neither. He killed three side-winders last Summer--didn't you, Tom, Old Socks?--and if any sheep-herder's dog comes snoopin' around theback door he'll mount him in a minute. If a man was as brave as he is, now, he'd--well, that's the trouble--he wouldn't last very long inthis country. I used to wonder sometimes which'd go first--me or Tom. The sheepmen was after me, and their dogs was after Tom. But I'mafraid poor Tommy is elected; this is a dam' bad country for cats. "

He set him down with a glance of admiring solicitude, such as aSpartan mother might have bestowed upon her fighting offspring, andkicked open the unlocked door. 

The Dos S ranch house was a long, low structure of adobe bricks, divided in the middle by the open passageway which the Mexicans alwaysaffect to encourage any vagrant breeze. On one side of the _corredor_was a single large room, half storehouse, half bunk room, with alitter of pack saddles, rawhide kyacks and leather in one corner, aheap of baled hay, grain, and provisions in the other, and the reststrewn with the general wreckage of a camp--cooking utensils, Dutchovens, canvas pack covers, worn-out saddles, and ropes. On the otherside the rooms were more pretentious, one of them even having a boardfloor. First came the large living-room with a stone chimney and araised hearth before the fireplace; whereon, each on its separatepile of ashes, reposed two Dutch ovens, a bean kettle, and afrying-pan, with a sawed-off shovel in the corner for scooping upcoals. Opening into the living-room were two bedrooms, which, uponexploration, turned out to be marvellously fitted up, with high-headedbeds, bureaus and whatnots, besides a solid oak desk. 

To these explorations of Hardy's Creede paid but slight attention, hebeing engaged in cooking a hurried meal and watching Tommy, who had abad habit of leaping up on the table and stealing; but as Hardy pausedby the desk in the front bedroom he looked up from mixing his breadand said:

"That's your room, Rufe, so you can clean it up and move in. Igenerally sleep outdoors myself--and I ain't got nothin', nohow. Jestput them guns and traps into the other room, so I can find 'em. Aw, goahead, you'll need that desk to keep your papers in. You've got towrite all the letters and keep the accounts, anyhow. It always didmake my back ache to lean over that old desk, and I'm glad to gitshent of it. 

"Pretty swell rooms, ain't they? Notice them lace curtains? Thekangaroo rats have chawed the ends a little, but I tell you, whenSusie and Sallie Winship was here this was the finest house for fortymiles. That used to be Sallie's room, where you are now. Many's thetime in the old days that I've rid up here to make eyes at Sallie, butthe old lady wouldn't stand for no sich foolishness. Old Winshipmarried her back in St. Louie and brought her out here to slave aroundcookin' for _rodér_ hands, and she wanted her daughters to livedifferent. Nope, she didn't want no bow-legged cow-punch for ason-in-law, and I don't blame her none, because this ain't no placefor a woman; but Sal was a mighty fine girl, all the same. "

He shook a little flour over his dough, brushed the cat off the tableabsently, and began pinching biscuits into the sizzling fat of theDutch oven, which smoked over its bed of coals on the hearth. Then, hooking the red-hot cover off the fire, he slapped it on and piled alittle row of coals along the upturned rim. 

"Didn't you never hear about the Winship girls?" he asked, strokingthe cat with his floury hands. "No? Well, it was on account of themthat the judge took over this ranch. Old man Winship was one of theseold-time Indian-fightin', poker-playin' sports that come pretty nighhavin' their own way about everythin'. He had a fine ranch uphere--the old Dos S used to brand a thousand calves and more, everyround-up; but when he got old he kinder speculated in mines and loanedmoney, and got in the hole generally, and about the time the sheepdrifted in on him he hauled off and died. I pulled off a big _rodér_for 'em and they sold a lot of cattle tryin' to patch things up thebest they could, but jest as everythin' was lovely the drouth struck'em all in a heap, and when the Widde' Winship got the estate settledup she didn't have nothin' much left but cows and good will. Shecouldn't sell the cows--you never can, right after these dryspells--and as I said, she wouldn't let the girls marry any of uscowmen to kinder be man for the outfit; so what does she do but runthe ranch herself!

"Yes, sir--Susie and Sallie, that was as nice and eddicated girls asyou ever see, they jest put on overalls and climbed their horses andworked them cattle themselves. Course they had _rodér_ hands to do thedirty work in the corrals--brandin' and ear-markin' and the like--butfor ridin' the range and drivin' they was as good as the best. Well, sir, you'd think every man in Arizona, when he heard what they wasdoin', would do everythin' in his power to help 'em along, even torunnin' a Dos S on an _orehanna_ once in a while instead of hoggin' ithimself; but they's fellers in this world, I'm convinced, that wouldsteal milk from a sick baby!"

The brawny foreman of the Dos S dropped the cat and threw out hishands impressively, and once more the wild glow crept back into hiseyes. 

"You remember that Jim Swope that I introduced you to down on thedesert? Well, he's a good sheepman, but he's on the grab for moneylike a wolf. He's got it, too--that's the hell of it. "

Creede sighed, and threw a scrap of bacon to Tommy. 

"He keeps a big store down at Moroni, " he continued, "and the widde', not wantin' to shove her cows onto a fallin' market, runs up anaccount with him--somethin' like a thousand dollars--givin' her notefor it, of course. It's about four years ago, now, that she happenedto be down in Moroni when court was in session, when she finds out byaccident that this same Jim Swope, seein' that cattle was about to goup, is goin' to close her out. He'd 'a' done it, too, like fallin' offa log, if the old judge hadn't happened to be in town lookin' up somelawsuit. When he heard about it he was so durned mad he wrote out acheck for a thousand dollars and give it to her; and then, when shetold him all her troubles, he up and bought the whole ranch at her ownprice--it wasn't much--and shipped her and the girls back to St. Louie. "

Creede brushed the dirt and flour off the table with a greasy rag anddumped the biscuits out of the oven. 

"Well, " he said, "there's where I lost my last chanst to git a girl. Come on and eat. "

CHAPTER VI

THE CROSSING

From lonely ranches along the Salagua and Verde, from the Sunflowerand up the Alamo, from all the sheeped-out and desolate Four Peakscountry the cowboys drifted in to Hidden Water for the round-up, driving their extra mounts before them. Beneath the brush _ramada_ ofthe ranch house they threw off their canvas-covered beds and turnedtheir pack horses out to roll, strapping bells and hobbles on the badones, and in a day the deserted valley of Agua Escondida became alivewith great preparations. A posse of men on fresh mounts rode out onBronco Mesa, following with unerring instinct the trail of the Dos Shorses, balking their wild breaks for freedom and rushing themheadlong into the fenced pasture across the creek. As the hired handsof the Dos S outfit caught up their mounts and endeavored to put thefear of God into their hearts, the mountain boys got out the keg ofhorseshoes and began to shoe--every man his own blacksmith. 

It was rough work, all around, whether blinding and topping off thehalf-wild ponies or throwing them and tacking cold-wrought "cowboy"shoes to their flint-like feet, and more than one enthusiast came awaylimping or picking the loose skin from a bruised hand. Yet through itall the dominant note of dare-devil hilarity never failed. Thesolitude of the ranch, long endured, had left its ugly mark on all ofthem. They were starved for company and excitement; obsessed bystrange ideas which they had evolved out of the tumuli of their pastexperience and clung to with dogged tenacity; warped with egotism;stubborn, boastful, or silent, as their humor took them, but now alleager to break the shell and mingle in the rush of life. 

In this riot of individuals Jefferson Creede, the round-up boss, strode about like a king, untrammelled and unafraid. There was not aridge or valley in all the Four Peaks country that he did not know, yet it was not for this that he was boss; there was not a virtue orweakness in all that crowd that he was not cognizant of, in the backof his scheming brain. The men that could rope, the men that couldride, the quitters, the blowhards, the rattleheads, the lazy, thecrooked, the slow-witted--all were on his map of the country; and as, when he rode the ridges, he memorized each gulch and tree and oddrock, so about camp he tried out his puppets, one by one, to keep hismap complete. 

As they gathered about the fire that evening it was Bill Lightfoot whoengaged his portentous interest. He listened to Bill's boastfulremarks critically, cocking his head to one side and smiling wheneverhe mentioned his horse. 

"Yes, sir, " asserted Bill belligerently, "I mean it--that gray of minecan skin anything in the country, for a hundred yards or a mile. I'vegot money that says so!"

"Aw, bull!" exclaimed Creede scornfully. 

"Bull, nothin', " retorted Lightfoot hotly. "I bet ye--I bet ye athousand dollars they ain't a horse in Arizona that can keep out of mydust for a quarter!"

"Well, I know you ain't got no thousand dollars--ner ten, " sneeredCreede. "Why don't you bet yearlings? If you'd blow some of that hotair through a tube it'd melt rocks, I reckon. But talk cow, man; wecan all savvy that!"

"Well, where's the horse that can beat me?" demanded Lightfoot, bristling. 

"That little sorrel out in the pasture, " answered Creede laconically. 

"I'll bet ye!" blustered Lightfoot. "Aw, rats! He ain't even brokeyet!"

"He can run, all right. I'll go you for a yearling heifer. Put up orshut up. "

And so the race was run. Early in the morning the whole _rodéo_ outfitadjourned to the _parada_ ground out by the pole corrals, the openspot where they work over the cattle. Hardy danced his sorrel up tothe line where the gray was waiting, there was a scamper of feet, astreak of dust, and Bill Lightfoot was out one yearling heifer. Ahowling mob of cowboys pursued them from the scratch, racing eachother to the finish, and then in a yell of laughter at Bill Lightfootthey capered up the cañon and spread out over The Rolls--the _rodéo_had begun. 

As the shadow of the great red butte to the west, around which thewagon road toiled for so many weary miles, reached out and touched thevalley, they came back in a body, hustling a bunch of cattle alongbefore them. And such cattle! After his year with the Chiricahuaoutfit in that blessed eastern valley where no sheep as yet had everstrayed Hardy was startled by their appearance. Gaunt, rough, stunted, with sharp hips and hollow flanks and bellies swollen from eating theunprofitable browse of cactus and bitter shrubs, they neverthelesssprinted along on their wiry legs like mountain bucks; and a peculiarwild, haggard stare, stamped upon the faces of the old cows, showedits replica even in the twos and yearlings. Yet he forbore to askCreede the question which arose involuntarily to his lips, for heknew the inevitable answer. 

Day after day, as they hurriedly combed The Rolls for what few cattleremained on the lower range, the cowmen turned their eyes to the riverand to the cañons and towering cliffs beyond, for the sheep; until atlast as they sat by the evening fire Creede pointed silently to thelambent flame of a camp fire, glowing like a torch against thesouthern sky. 

"There's your friends, Rufe, " he said, and the cowmen glanced at Hardyinquiringly. 

"I might as well tell you fellers, " Creede continued, "that one reasonRufe come up here was to see if he couldn't do somethin' with thesesheepmen. "

He paused and looked at the circle of faces with a smile that wasalmost a sneer. 

"You fellers wouldn't back me up when it come to fightin'--none exceptBen Reavis and the Clark boys--so I told the old judge we might aswell lay down, and to send up some smooth _hombre_ to try and jockey'em a little. Well, Hardy's the _hombre_; and bein' as you fellerswon't fight, you might as well look pleasant about it. What's that yousay, Bill?"

He turned with a sardonic grin to Lightfoot, who had already beenreduced to a state of silence by the relentless persecutions of the_rodéo_ boss. 

"I never said nawthin', " replied Lightfoot sullenly. "But if you'd'vegone at 'em the way we wanted to, " he blurted out, as the grinbroadened, "instead of tryin' to move the whole outfit by daylight, I'd've stayed with you till hell froze over. I don't want to git sentup fer ten years. "

"No, " said Creede coolly, "ner you never will. "

"Well, I don't see what you're pickin' on me fer, " bellowed Lightfoot, "the other fellers was there too. Why don't you sass Ensign or Pete awhile?"

"For a durned good reason, " replied Creede steadily. "They never _was_for fightin', but you, with that yawp of yours, was always a-hollerin'and ribbin' me on to fight, and then, when the time come, you neversaid 'Boo!' at 'em. Tucked your young cannon into the seat of yourpants and flew, dam' ye, and that's all there was to it. But that'sall right, " he added resignedly. "If you fellers don't want to fightyou don't have to. But, dam' it, keep shut about it now, until youmean business. "

As to just who this man Hardy was and what he proposed to do with thesheep the members of the Four Peaks round-up were still in ignorance. All they knew was that he could ride, even when it came to driftinghis horse over the rocky ridges, and that Jeff Creede took him as amatter of course. But, for a superintendent, he never seemed to havemuch to say for himself. It was only when he walked up to his sorrelpony in that gentle, precise way he had, and went through the familiarmotions of climbing a "bad one" that they sensed, dimly, a past notwithout experience and excitement. Even in the preoccupation of theirown affairs and doings they could not fail to notice a supple strengthin his white hands, a military precision in his movements, and aboveall a look in his eyes when he became excited--the steady resolutestare with which his militant father had subdued outlaw horses, bucksoldiers, and Apaches, even his own son, when all had not gone well. It was this which had inspired Bill Lightfoot to restrain his tonguewhen he was sore over his defeat; and even though Hardy confessed tobeing a rider, somehow no one ever thought of sawing off SpikeKennedy's "side winder" on him. The quiet, brooding reserve which camefrom his soldier life protected him from such familiar jests, andwithout knowing why, the men of the Four Peaks looked up to him. 

Even after his mission was announced, Hardy made no change in hismanner of life. He rode out each day on the round-up, conning the layof the land; at the corral he sat on the fence and kept tally, frankly admitting that he could neither rope nor brand; in camp he didhis share of the cooking and said little, listening attentively to therandom talk. Only when sheep were mentioned did he show a markedinterest, and even then it was noticed that he made no comment, whatever his thoughts were. But if he told no one what he was going todo, it was not entirely due to an overrated reticence, for he did notknow himself. Not a man there but had run the gamut of human emotionsin trying to protect his ranch; they had driven herders off with guns;they had cut their huddled bands at night and scattered them for thecoyotes; they had caught unwary Mexican _borregueros_ in forbiddenpastures and administered "shap lessons, " stretching them overbowlders and spanking them with their leather leggings; they had"talked reason" to the bosses in forceful terms; they had requestedthem politely to move; they had implored them with tears in theireyes--and still like a wave of the sea, like a wind, like a scourge ofgrasshoppers which cannot be withstood, the sheep had come on, alwayshungry, always fat, always more. 

Nor was there any new thing in hospitality. The last bacon and breadhad been set upon the table; baled hay and grain, hauled in by day'sworks from the alfalfa fields of Moroni and the Salagua, had been fedto the famished horses of the very men who had sheeped off the grass;the same blanket had been shared, sometimes, alas, with men who were"crumby. " And it was equally true that, in return, the beans and meatof chance herders had been as ravenously devoured, the water casks ofpatient "camp-rustlers" had been drained midway between the river andcamp, and stray wethers had showed up in the round-up fry-pans in theshape of mutton. Ponder as he would upon the problem no solutionoffered itself to Hardy. He had no policy, even, beyond that of commonpoliteness; and as the menacing clamor of the sheep drifted up to themfrom the river the diplomat who was to negotiate the great truce beganto wonder whether, after all, he was the man of the hour or merelyanother college graduate gone wrong. 

On the opposite side of the river in bands of two and three thousandthe cohorts of the sheep gathered to make the crossing--gathered andwaited, for the Salagua was still high. At the foot of the highcliffs, from the cleft cañon of which water flowed forth as if somerod had called it from the rock, the leaders of the sheepmen weresitting in council, gazing at the powerful sweep of the level river, and then at the distant sand bar where their charges must win theshore or be swept into the whirlpool below. Ah, that whirlpool! Many afrightened ewe and weakling lamb in years past had drifted helplesslyinto its swirl and been sucked down, to come up below the point awater-logged carcass. And for each stinking corpse that littered thelower bar the boss sheep owner subtracted five dollars from the sum ofhis hard-earned wealth. Already on the flats below them the willowsand burro bushes were trembling as eager teeth trimmed them of theirleaves--in a day, or two days, the river bottom would be fed bare; andbehind and behind, clear to the broad floor of the desert, band afterband was pressing on to the upper crossing of the Salagua. 

As Hardy rode up over the rocky point against which the river threwits full strength and then, flung inexorably back, turned upon itselfin a sullen whirlpool, he could see the sheep among the willows, theherders standing impassive, leaning upon their guns as more rusticshepherds lean upon their staves, and above, at the head of thecrossing, the group of men, sitting within the circle of their horsesin anxious conference. If any of them saw him, outlined like asentinel against the sky, they made no sign; but suddenly a man in ahigh Texas hat leaped up from the group, sprang astride his mule andspurred him into the cold water. For the first twenty feet the mulewaded, shaking his ears; then he slumped off the edge of a submergedbench into deeper water and swam, heading across the stream butdrifting diagonally with the current until, striking bottom once more, he struggled out upon the sand spit. The rider looked eagerly about, glanced up casually at the man on the point below, and then plungedback into the water, shouting out hoarse orders to his Mexicans, whowere smoking idly in the shade of overhanging rocks. Immediately theyscrambled to their feet and scattered along the hillside. The strokeof axes echoed from the crags above, and soon men came staggering downto the river, dragging the thorny limbs of _palo verdes_ behind them. With these they quickly constructed a brush fence in the form of awing, running parallel to the cliff and making a chute which openedinto the river. 

Then with a great braying and bleating a huddle of sheep movedunwillingly along it, led by bold goats with crooked horns andresolute beards, and pushed forward by that same reckless rider on hisblack mule, assisted by a horde of shouting Mexicans. But at the touchof the cold water, two days from the snow beds of the White Mountains, even the hardy bucks stepped back and shook their heads defiantly. Invain with showers of rocks and flapping tarpaulins the herders stormedthe rear of the press--every foot was set against them and the sheeponly rushed about along the edge of the herd or crowded inclose-wedged masses against the bluff. At last a line of men leapedinto the enclosure, holding up a long canvas wagon-cover and, encircling the first section of the leaders, shoved them by main forceinto the river. 

Instantly the goats took water, swimming free, and below them the manon the black mule shouted and waved his broad Texas hat, heading themacross the stream. But the timid sheep turned back behind him, landingbelow the fence against all opposition, and the babel of their brayingrose higher and higher, as if in protest against their unlucky fate. Again and again the herders, stripped to their underclothes, pushedthe unwilling sheep into the current, wading out to their chins tokeep them headed across; each time the sodden creatures evaded themand, drifting with the current, landed far below on the same side, whence they rushed back to join their fellows. 

Upon the opposite shore the goats stood shivering, watching thestruggle with yellow, staring eyes which showed no trace of fear. Likebrave generals of a craven band they were alone in their hardihoodand, with their feet upon the promised land, were doomed either toproceed alone or return to their companions. So at last they did, plunging in suddenly, while the man on the mule spurred in below in avain effort to turn them back. 

That night by the camp fire Hardy mentioned the man on a black mule. 

"My old friend, Jasp Swope, " explained Creede suavely, "brother ofJim, the feller I introduced you to. Sure, Jasp and I have had lo-ongtalks together--but he don't like me any more. " He twisted his noseand made a face, as if to intimate that it was merely a childishsquabble, and Hardy said no more. He was growing wise. 

The next morning, and the next, Jasper Swope made other attempts atthe crossing; and then, as the snow water from the high mountainsslipped by and the warm weather dried up by so much each littlestream, he was able at last to ford the diminished river. But first, with that indomitable energy which marked him at every move, hecleared a passage along the base of the cliff to a place where theearth-covered moraine broke off at the edge of the water. Here a broadledge shot down to the river like a toboggan slide, with a six-footjump off at the bottom. 

Once on this chute, with the strong tug of the canvas wagon-coversbehind, there was nothing for the sheep to do but to take the plunge, and as his brawny herders tumbled them head over heels into the deepcurrent Swope and his helpers waded out in a line below, shunting eachewe and wading toward the farther shore. There on the edge of thesand spit they huddled in a bunch, gathering about the hardier bucksand serving as a lure for those that followed. As cut after cut wasforced into the stream a long row of bobbing heads stretched clearacross the river, each animal striving desperately to gain theopposite bank and landing, spent and puffing, far below. A Mexican boyat intervals drove these strays up the shore to the big bunch and thenconcealed himself in the bushes lest by his presence he turn sometimid swimmer back and the whirlpool increase its toll. So theycrossed them in two herds, the wethers first, and then the ewes andlambs--and all the little lambs that could not stem the stream werefloated across in broad pieces of tarpaulin whose edges were held upby wading men. 

From Lookout Point it was a majestic spectacle, the high cliffs, thesilvery river gliding noiselessly out from its black cañon, the whitemasses of sheep, clustering on either side of the water--and as thework went ahead merrily the Mexicans, their naked bodies gleaming likepolished bronze in the ardent sun, broke into a wild refrain, a lovesong, perhaps, or a _cancion_ of old Mexico. Working side by side withhis men Jasper Swope joined in the song himself, and as they returnedempty-handed he seized the tallest and strongest of them and duckedhim in the water while his retainers roared with laughter. And Hardy, sitting unnoticed upon his horse, began to understand why theselow-browed barbarians from Mexico were willing to fight, and if needbe to die, for their masters. The age of feudalism had returned--thelords of the sheep went forth like barons, sharing every hardship andleading the way in danger, and their men followed with the sameunthinking devotion that the Myrmidons showed for noble Achilles orthe Crusaders for their white-crossed knights. 

Upon this and many other feats Hardy had ample leisure to meditate, for the sheepmen regarded him no more than if he had been a monumentplaced high upon the point to give witness to their victory. As thesheep crossed they were even allowed to straggle out along the slopesof the forbidden mesa, untended by their shepherds; and if the upperrange was the special reserve of the cowmen the sheep owners showed noknowledge of the fact. For two days the grazing herd crept slowlyalong the mesquite-covered flat toward Lookout Point, and on the thirdmorning they boiled up over the rocks and spewed down into the valleyof the Alamo. 

"Well, " observed Creede, as he watched the slow creeping of the flock, "here's where I have to quit you, Rufe. In a week this ground aroundhere will be as level as a billiard table and they won't be enoughhorse feed in the valley to keep a burro. The town herd pulls out forBender this mornin' and the rest of us will move up to CarrizoCreek. "

He hurried away to oversee the packing, but when all was ready hewaved the boys ahead and returned to the conversation. 

"As I was sayin' a while ago, you won't see nothin' but sheep aroundhere now for the next two weeks--and all I want to say is, keep 'emout of the pasture, and f'r God's sake don't let 'em corral in thebrandin' pens! They're dirty enough already, but if you git about sixinches of sheep manure in there and then mill a few hundred head ofcattle around on top of it, the dust would choke a skunk. Our cowsain't so over-particular about that sheep smell, but if we poorcowboys has got to breathe sheep and eat sheep and spit up sheep everytime we brand, it's crowdin' hospitality pretty strong. But if theywant grub or clothes or tabac, go to it--and see if you can't keep 'emoff the upper range. "

He paused and gazed at Hardy with eyes which suggested a world ofadvice and warning--then, leaving it all unsaid, he turned wearilyaway. 

"I look to find you with a sprained wrist, " he drawled, "when I comeback--throwin' flapjacks for them sheepmen!" He made the quick motionof turning a pancake in midair, smiled grimly, and galloped after thelong line of horses and packs that was stringing along up the BroncoMesa trail. And, having a premonition of coming company, Hardy went inby the fireplace and put on a big kettle of beef. He was picking overanother mess of beans when he heard the clatter of hoofs outside andthe next moment the door was kicked violently open. 

It was Jasper Swope who stood on the threshold, his high Texas hatthrust far back upon his head--and if he felt any surprise at findingthe house occupied he gave no expression to it. 

"Hello, there!" he exclaimed. "I thought you folks was all gone!"

"Nope, " replied Hardy, and continued his work in silence. 

"Cookin' for the outfit?" queried Swope, edging in at the door. 

"Nope, " replied Hardy. 

"Well, who the hell air ye cookin' fer then?" demanded Swope, drawingnearer. "'Scuse me if I pry into this matter, but I'm gittin'interested. " He paused and showed a jagged set of teeth beneath hisbristling red mustache, sneeringly. 

"Well, I'll tell you, " answered Hardy easily. "I thought some whiteman might come along later and I'd ask him to dinner. " He fixed hiseyes upon the sheepman with an instant's disapproval and then resumedhis cookery. As for Swope, his gray eyes flashed sudden fire frombeneath bushy eyebrows, and then a canny smile crept across his lips. 

"I used to be a white man, myself, " he said, "before I lost my soap. What's the chance to git a bite of that bymeby?" He threw his hand outtoward the pot of beef, which was sending out odors of a rich broth, flavored with onions and chili. 

Hardy looked at him again, little shrimp of a man that he was, andstill with disapproval. 

"D'ye call that a white man's way of entering another man's house?" heinquired pointedly. 

"Well, " temporized Swope, and then he stopped. "A man in my line ofbusiness gits in a hurry once in a while, " he said lamely. "But I'mhungry, all right, " he remarked, _sotto voce_. 

"Yes, " said Hardy, "I've noticed it. But here--sit down and eat. "

The sheepman accepted the dish of beef, dipped out a spoonful ofbeans, broke off a slab of bread, and began his meal forthwith, meanwhile looking at Hardy curiously. 

"What's that you say you've noticed?" he inquired, and a quizzicalsmile lurked beneath his dripping mustache as he reached over andhefted the coffeepot. 

"I've noticed, " replied Hardy, "that you sheepmen get in a hurry oncein a while. You can't stop to knock on a door so you kick it open;can't stop to go around a ranch, so you go through it, and so on. "

"Ah, " observed Swope slyly, "so that's what's bitin' you, eh? I reckonyou must be that new superintendent that Jim was tellin' about. "

"That's right, " admitted Hardy, "and you're Mr. Swope, of course. Well, I'll say this for you, Mr. Swope, you certainly know how to getsheep across a river. But when it comes to getting along with cowmen, "he added, as the sheepman grinned his self-approval, "you don't seemto stack up very high. "

"Oh, I don't, hey?" demanded Swope defiantly. "Well, how about thecowmen? Your friend Creede gets along with sheepmen like a houseafire, don't he? Him and a bunch of his punchers jumped on one of myherders last Fall and dam' nigh beat him to death. Did you ever hearof a sheepman jumpin' on a cowboy? No, by Gad, and you never will! Wecarry arms to protect ourselves, but we never make no trouble. "

He paused and combed the coffee grounds out of his heavy red mustachewith fingers that were hooked like an eagle's talons from clutching atsheep in the cold water. 

"I don't doubt, Mr. Superintendent, " he said, with sinisterdirectness, "that these cowmen have filled you up about what bad_hombres_ we are--and of course it ain't no use to say nothin'now--but I jest want to tell you one thing, and I want you to rememberit if any trouble should come up; we sheepmen have never gone beyondour legal rights, and we've got the law behind us. The laws of theUnited States and the statutes of this Territory guarantee us theright to graze our sheep on public lands and to go where we dam'please--and we'll go, too, you can bank on that. "

He added this last with an assurance which left no doubt as to hisintentions, and Hardy made no reply. His whole mind seemed centred ona handful of beans from which he was picking out the rocks and littlelumps of clay which help to make up full weight. 

"Well!" challenged Swope, after waiting for his answer, "ain't thatstraight?"

"Sure, " said Hardy absently. 

Swope glared at him for a moment disapprovingly. 

"Huh, you're a hell of a cowman, " he grunted. "What ye goin' to doabout it?"

"About what?" inquired Hardy innocently. 

"Aw, you know, " replied Swope impatiently. "How about that upperrange?" He shoved back his chair as he spoke, and his eyes lit up inanticipation of the battle. 

"Well, " responded Hardy judicially, "if you've got the legal right togo up there, and if you're goin' where you dam' please, anyhow, itdon't look like I could do anything. " He paused and smiled patientlyat the sheepman. 

"You know very well, Mr. Swope, " he said, "that if you want to go upon that mesa and sheep off the feed we haven't got any legal means ofpreventing you. But you know, too, that there isn't more than enoughfeed for what cows the boys have left. If you want to go up there, that's your privilege--and if you want to go out over The Rolls, that's all right, too. "

"Of course you don't give a dam'!" said Swope satirically. 

"I guess you know how I feel, all right, " returned Hardy, and then helapsed into silence, while Swope picked his teeth and thought. 

"Where'd you come from?" he said at last, as if, forgetting all thathad passed, his mind had come back from a far country, unbiassed bythe facts. 

"Over the mountains, " replied Hardy, jerking his thumb toward theeast. 

"Don't have no sheep over there, do they?" inquired Swope. 

"Nope, nothing but cattle and horses. "

"Ump!" grunted the sheepman, and then, as if the matter was settledthereby, he said: "All right, pardner, bein' as you put it that way, Ireckon I'll go around. "

CHAPTER VII

HELL'S HIP POCKET

In the days of Ahaz, king of Judah, Isaiah the son of Amoz is reportedto have seen in a vision a wolf which dwelt with a lamb, while a lionate straw like an ox, and a weaned child put his hand in thecockatrice's den. Equally beautiful, as a dream, was the peace atHidden Water, where sheepman and cattleman sat down together in amity;only, when it was all over, the wolf wiped his chops and turned awaywith a wise smile--the millennium not having come, as yet, inArizona. 

Hardy's wrist was a little lame, figuratively speaking, from throwingflapjacks for hungry sheep herders, and the pile of grain and baledhay in the storehouse had dwindled materially; but as the sheep camethrough, band after band, and each turned off to the west, stringingin long bleating columns out across The Rolls, he did not begrudge thehard labor. After Jasper Swope came Jim, and Donald McDonald, as jollya Scottish shepherd as ever lived, and Bazan, the Mexican, who tracedhis blood back to that victorious general whom Maximilian sent intoSonora. There were Frenchmen, smelling rank of garlic and muttontallow; Basques with eyes as blue and vacant as the summer skies;young Mormons working on shares, whose whole fortune was wrapped up inthe one huddle of sheep which they corralled and counted so carefully;and then the common herders, fighting Chihuahuanos, with big roundheads and staring eyes, low-browed Sonorans, slow and brutal in theirways, men of all bloods and no blood, lumped together in thatcareless, all-embracing Western term "Mexicans. "

But though they were low and primitive in mental processes, nearer totheir plodding burros than to the bright-eyed sensitive dogs, theywere the best who would consent to wander with the sheep through thewilderness, seeing nothing, doing nothing, knowing nothing, havingbefore them nothing but the vision of a distant pay day, a drunk, the_calabozo_, and the kind boss who would surely bail them out. Ah, thatwas it--the one love and loyalty of those simple-minded creatures who, unfit for the hurry and competition of the great world, sold theirlives by spans of months for twenty dollars and found; it was alwaysto the boss that they looked for help, and in return they did hiswill. 

When the great procession had drifted past, with its braying clamor, its dogs, its men on muleback and afoot, the herders with theircarbines, the camp rustlers with their burros, belled and laden withwater casks and kyacks of grub, the sheep owners hustling about withan energy that was almost a mania, Hardy sat beneath the _ramada_ ofthe ranch house with dog-fighting Tommy in his lap and pondered deeplyupon the spectacle. A hundred thousand sheep, drifting like theshadows of clouds across the illimitable desert, crossing swiftrivers, climbing high mountains, grazing beneath the northern pines;and then turning south again and pouring down through the passes likethe resistless front of a cloudburst which leaves the earth bare andwasted in its wake. For this one time he had turned the stream asideand the tall grass still waved upon the upper range; but the nexttime, or the next--what then?

Long and seriously he contemplated the matter, dwelling now upon therough good nature of the sheepmen and this almost miraculousdemonstration of their good will; then remembered with vaguemisgivings their protestations against the unlawful violence whichpresumed to deny them what was their legal right--free grazing on allgovernment lands. And in the end he wrote a brief note to Judge Ware, telling him that while the sheepmen had accepted his hospitality in amost friendly spirit and had respected the upper range, it was in hisopinion only a question of time until they would take the wholecountry, unless they were restrained by law. He therefore recommendedthat the judge look up the status of the bill to set aside thewatershed of the Salagua as a National Forest Reserve, and in case theopposition to it indicated any long delay it would be well either tosell out or reduce his stock. This note he sent out by Rafael, theMexican roustabout, who was still hauling in supplies from Bender, andthen with a glad heart he saddled up his horse, left a bait of meat onthe floor for Tommy, and struck out over the mesa for Carrizo Creek. 

After his long confinement in the pasture the sorrel galloped alongthe rocky trail with the grace and swiftness of an antelope, the warmdry wind puffed little whirls of dust before them, and once more Hardyfelt like a man. If for the best interests of his employer it wasdesirable that he cook beef and bread for sheepmen, he could do sowith good grace, but his spirit was not that of a man who serves. Since he had left home he had taken a great deal from the world, patiently accepting her arrogance while he learned her ways, but hissoul had never been humbled and he rode forth now like a king. 

Upon that great mesa where the bronco mustangs from the Peaks stilldefied the impetuosity of men, the giant _sahuaros_ towered in amighty forest as far as the eye could see, yet between each stalkthere lay a wide space, studded here and there with niggerheads ofbristling spines, and fuzzy _chollas_, white as the backs of sheep andthorny beyond reason. Nor was this all: in the immensity of distancethere was room for _sahuaros_ and niggerheads and _chollas_, and muchbesides. In every gulch and sandy draw the _palo verdes_, their yellowflowers gleaming in the sun, stood out like lines of fire; the bottomsof the steep ravines which gashed the mesa were illuminated with thegaudy tassels of mesquite blossoms; gray coffee-berry bushes clumpedup against the sides of ridges, and in every sheltered place the longgrass waved its last-year's banners, while the fresh green of tendergrowth matted the open ground like a lawn. Baby rabbits, feeding alongtheir runways in the grass, sat up at his approach or hoppedinnocently into the shadow of the sheltering cat-claws; jack-rabbitswith black-tipped ears galloped madly along before him, imaginingthemselves pursued, and in every warm sandy place where the lizardstook the sun there was a scattering like the flight of arrows as thelong-legged swift-jacks rose up on their toes and flew. All nature wasin a gala mood and Rufus Hardy no less. Yet as he rode along, gazingat the dreamy beauty of this new world, the old far-away look creptback into his eyes, a sad, brooding look such as one often sees inthe faces of little children who have been crossed, and the sternlines at the corners of his mouth were deeper when he drew rein aboveCarrizo Creek. 

Below him lay the panorama of a mountain valley--the steep and rockywalls; the silvery stream writhing down the middle; the green andyellow of flowers along the lowlands; and in the middle, to give itlife, a great herd of cattle on the _parada_ ground, weaving andmilling before the rushes of yelling horsemen, intent on cutting outevery steer in the herd. Beyond lay the corrals of peeled cottonwood, and a square house standing out stark and naked in the supremeugliness of corrugated iron, yet still oddly homelike in a land whereshelter was scarce. As he gazed, a mighty voice rose up to him fromthe midst of the turmoil, the blatting of calves, the mooing of cowsand the hoarse thunder of mountain bulls:

"Hel-lo, Rufe!"

From his place on the edge of the herd Hardy saw Jefferson Creede, almost herculean on his tall horse, waving a large black hat. Instantly he put spurs to his sorrel and leaped down the narrow trail, and at the edge of the herd they shook hands warmly, for friends arescarce, wherever you go. 

"Jest in time!" said Creede, grinning his welcome, "we're goin' overinto Hell's Hip Pocket to-morrow--the original hole in the ground--tobring out Bill Johnson's beef critters, and I sure wanted you to makethe trip. How'd you git along with Jasp?"

"All right, " responded Hardy, "he didn't make me any trouble. But I'mglad to get away from that sheep smell, all the same. "

The big cowboy fixed his eyes upon him eagerly. 

"Did they go around?" he asked incredulously. "Jasp and all?"

"Sure, " said Hardy. "Why?"

For a long minute Creede was silent, wrinkling his brows as hepondered upon the miracle. 

"Well, that's what _I_ want to know, " he answered ambiguously. "Butsay, you've got a fresh horse; jest take my place here while me andUncle Bill over there show them ignorant punchers how to cut cattle. "

He circled rapidly about the herd and, riding out into the runwaywhere the cattle were sifted, the beef steers being jumped across theopen into the hold-up herd and the cows and calves turned back, heheld up his hand for the work to stop. Then by signals he sent thegalloping horsemen back to the edge of the herd and beckoned for oldBill Johnson. 

For a few minutes he sat quietly on his horse, waiting for theharassed cattle to stop their milling. Then breaking into a song suchas cowboys sing at night he rode slowly in among them, threading aboutat random, while old Bill Johnson on his ancient mare did likewise, his tangled beard swaying idly in the breeze. On the border of theherd they edged in as if by accident upon a fat steer and walked himamiably forth into the open. Another followed out of naturalperversity, and when both were nicely started toward the beef cut thetwo men drifted back once more into the herd. There was no running, noshouting, no gallant show of horsemanship, but somehow the rightsteers wandered over into the beef cut and stayed there. As if bymagic spell the outlaws and "snakes" became good, and with no breaksfor the hills the labor of an afternoon was accomplished in the spaceof two dull and uneventful hours. 

"That's the way to cut cattle!" announced Creede, as they turned thediscard toward the hills. "Ain't it, Bill?"

He turned to Johnson who, sitting astride a flea-bitten gray mare thatseemed to be in a perpetual doze, looked more like an Apache squawthan a boss cowboy. The old man's clothes were even more ragged thanwhen Hardy had seen him at Bender, his copper-riveted hat was furtherreinforced by a buckskin thong around the rim, and his knees wereshort-stirruped almost up to his elbows by the puny little boy'ssaddle that he rode, but his fiery eyes were as quick and piercing asever. 

"Shore thing, " he said, straightening up jauntily in his saddle, "that's my way! Be'n doin' it fer years, while you boys was killin'horses, but it takes Jeff hyar to see the p'int. Be gentle, boys, begentle with um--you don't gain nawthin' fer all yer hard ridin'. "

He cut off a chew of tobacco and tucked it carefully away in hischeek. 

"Jeff hyar, " he continued, as the bunch of cowboys began to joshand laugh among themselves, "he comes by his savvy right--his pawwas a smart man before him, and mighty clever to his friends, toboot. Many's the time I hev took little Jeffie down the river andlearned him tracks and beaver signs when he wasn't knee-high to agrasshopper--hain't I, Jeff? And when I tell him to be gentle withthem cows he knows I'm right. I jest want you boys to take noticewhen you go down into the Pocket to-morrer what kin be done bykindness; and the first man that hollers or puts a rope on my gentlestock, I'll sure make him hard to ketch. 

"You hear me, naow, " he cried, turning sharply upon Bill Lightfoot, who was getting off something about "Little Jeffie, " and then for thefirst time he saw the face of the new cowboy who had ridden in thatafternoon. Not since the day he was drunk at Bender had Bill Johnsonset eyes upon the little man to whom he had sworn off, but herecognized him instantly. 

"Hello thar, pardner!" he exclaimed, reining his mare in abruptly. "Whar'd you drop down from?"

"Why howdy do, Mr. Johnson!" answered Hardy, shaking hands, "I'm gladto see you again. Jeff told me he was going down to your ranchto-morrow and I looked to see you then. "

Bill Johnson allowed this polite speech to pass over his shoulderwithout response. Then, drawing Hardy aside, he began to talkconfidentially; expounding to the full his system of gentling cattle;launching forth his invective, which was of the pioneer variety, uponthe head of all sheepmen; and finally coming around with a jerk to thesubject that was uppermost in his mind. 

"Say, " he said, "I want to ask you a question--are you any relation tothe Captain Hardy that I served with over at Fort Apache? Seems's ifyou look like 'im, only smaller. "

His stature was a sore point with Hardy, and especially in connectionwith his father, but making allowance for Mr. Johnson's ways hemodestly admitted his ancestry. 

"His son, eh!" echoed the old man. "Waal--now! I tell you, boy, I_knowed_ you--I knowed you the minute you called down that dog-robberof a barkeep--and I was half drunk, too. And so you're the newsuperintendent down at the Dos S, eh? Waal, all I can say is: God helpthem pore sheepmen if you ever git on their trail. I used to chaseApaches with yore paw, boy!"

It was Bill Johnson's turn to talk that evening and like mostsolitaries who have not "gone into the silence, " he availed himself ofa listener with enthusiasm. 

Stories of lion hunts and "b'ar fights" fell as trippingly from hislips as the words of a professional monologist, and when he hadfinished his account of the exploits of Captain Samuel Barrows Hardy, even the envious Lightfoot regarded Rufus with a new respect, forthere is no higher honor in Arizona than to be the son of an Indianfighter. And when the last man had crawled wearily into his blanketsthe old hermit still sat by the dying fire poking the charred endsinto the flames and holding forth to the young superintendent upon thecourage of his sire. 

Hardly had the son of his father crept under the edge of Creede'sblankets and dropped to sleep before that huge mountain of energy roseup and gave the long yell. The morning was at its blackest, that murkyfour A. M. Darkness which precedes the first glimmer of light; butthe day's work had to be done. The shivering horse-wrangler stamped onhis boots and struck out down the cañon after the _remuda_, two orthree cooks got busy about the fire which roared higher and higher asthey piled on the ironwood to make coals, and before the sun had morethan mounted the southern shoulder of the Four Peaks the long line ofhorsemen was well on the trail to Hell's Hip Pocket. 

The frontier imagination had in no wise overleaped itself in namingthis abyss. Even the tribute which Facilis Descensus Vergil paid tothe local Roman hell could hardly be said of the Pocket--it is noteven easy to get into it. From the top of the divide it looks like avalley submerged in a smoky haze through which the peaks and pinnaclesof the lower parks rise up like cathedral spires, pointing solemnly toheaven. As the trail descends through washed-out gulches and"stone-patches, " now skating along the backbone of a ridge and nowdropping as abruptly into some hollow waterway, the cliffs andpinnacles begin to loom up against the sky; then they seem to close inand block the way, and just as the cañon boxes in to nothing the trailslips into a gash in the face of the cliff where the soft sandstonehas crumbled away between two harder strata, and climbs precariouslyalong through the sombre gloom of the gorge to the bright light of thefair valley beyond. 

It is a kind of fairy land, that hidden pocket in the hills, alwayscovered by a mystic haze, for which the Mexicans give it the name_Humada_. Its steep cañon comes down from the breast of the mosteasterly of the Four Peaks, impassable except by the one trail; itpasses through the box and there widens out into a beautiful valley, where the grass lies along the hillsides like the tawny mane of alion, and tender flowers stand untrampled in the rich bottoms. Forthree miles or more it spreads out between striated cliffs where hawksand eagles make their nests; then once more it closes in, the creekplunges down a narrow gorge and disappears, writhing tortuously on itsway to the Salagua whose fire-blasted walls rise in huge bulwarksagainst the south, dwarfing the near-by cliffs into nothingness bytheir majestic height. 

In the presence of this unearthly beauty and grandeur old BillJohnson--ex-trapper, ex-soldier, ex-prospector, ex-everything--haddwelt for twenty years, dating from the days when his house was hisfortress, and his one desire was to stand off the Apaches until hecould find the Lost Dutchman. 

Where the valley narrowed down for its final plunge into the gorge theold trapper had built his cabin, its walls laid "square with theworld" by sighting on the North Star. When the sun entered thethreshold of the western door it was noon, and his watch never randown. The cabin was built of shaly rocks, squared and laid in mud, like bricks; a tremendous stone chimney stood against the north endand a corral for his burros at the south. Three hounds with blearedeyes and flapping ears, their foreheads wrinkled with age and theanxieties of the hunt, bayed forth a welcome as the cavalcade strungin across the valley; and mild-eyed cattle, standing on the ridges tocatch the wind, stared down at them in surprise. Never, even at SanCarlos, where the Chiricahua cattle fatten on the best feed inArizona, had Hardy seen such mountains of beef. Old steers with sixand seven rings on their horns hung about the salting places, as ifthere were no such things as beef drives and slaughter houses in thiscruel world, and even when the cowboys spread out like a fan andbrought them all in to the cutting grounds there was hardly a calfthat bawled. 

As the three or four hundred head that made up his entire earthlypossession drifted obediently in, the old man rode up to Creede andHardy and waved his hand expansively. 

"Thar, boys, " he said, "thar's the results of peace and kindness. Narya critter thar that I heven't scratched between the horns since theday his maw brought him down to the salt lick. I even git Jeff andthe boys to brand and earmark 'em fer me, so they won't hev no hardfeelin' fer the Old Man. D'ye see that big white-faced steer?" heasked, pointing with pride to the monarch of the herd. "Waal, how muchye think he'll weigh?" he demanded, turning to Creede. "Fifteenhundred?"

"Um, more 'n that, " responded Creede, squinting his eyes downjudicially. "Them Herefords are awful solid when they git big. Ireckon he'll run nigh onto seventeen hundred, Bill. " He paused andwinked furtively at Hardy. "I kin git fifty dollars fer that old boy, jest the way he stands, " he said, "and bein' as he can't carry no moreweight nohow, I'll jest cut him into the town herd right now, and--"

"Hyar!" shouted Johnson, grabbing the cowboy's bridle, "who's doin'this, anyhow?"

"W'y _you_, Bill, " answered Creede innocently, "but--"

"That's all right, then, " said the old man shortly, "you leave thatsteer alone. I'll jest cut this herd to suit myself. "

Over at the branding pen the irons were on the fire and the markingwas progressing rapidly, but out in the open Mr. Bill Johnson wasmaking slow work of his cut. 

"He gets stuck on them cows, like an Irishman with his pig, " observedCreede, as the old man turned back a prime four-year-old. "He'd ratherbe barbecued by the Apaches than part with that big white-faced boy. If I owned 'em I'd send down a lot of them big fat brutes and buydoggies; but Bill spends all the money he gits fer booze anyhow, so Ireckon it's all right. He generally sends out about twenty runts androughs, and lets it go at that. Say! You'll have to git a move on, Bill, " he shouted, "we want to send that beef cut on ahead!"

The old man reined in his mare and surveyed the big herd critically. 

"Waal, " he drawled, "I reckon that'll do fer this trip, then. Take 'emalong. And the fust one of you punchers that hits one of them crittersover the tail with his hondu, " he shouted, as the eager horsementrotted over to start them, "will hev me to lick!"

He placed an order for provisions with Creede, asked him to keep thesupplies at Hidden Water until he came over for them with the burros, and turned away contentedly as the cowboys went upon their way. 

Down by the branding pen the mother cows licked the blood from theiroffsprings' mangled ears and mooed resentfully, but the bigwhite-faced steer stood in brutish content on the salting grounds andgazed after the town herd thoughtfully. 

A bunch of burros gathered about the doorway of the cabin, snoopingfor bacon rinds; the hounds leaned their heavy jowls upon his kneesand gazed up worshipfully into their master's face; and as the sundipped down toward the rim of the mighty cliffs that shut him in, thelord of Hell's Hip Pocket broke into the chorus of an ancient song:

 "Oh, _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains, And _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains, And _o_-ver the prairies, and _o_-ver the mountains, I'll go till I find me a home. "

CHAPTER VIII

A YEAR'S MAIL

The beef herd was safely delivered at Bender, the feeders disposed ofat Moroni, and the checks sent on to the absentee owner, who did notknow a steer from a stag; the _rodéo_ hands were paid off andsuccessfully launched upon their big drunk; bills were paid and theSummer's supplies ordered in, and then at last the superintendent and_rodéo_ boss settled down to a little domesticity. 

Since the day that Hardy had declined to drink with him Creede hadquietly taken to water, and he planted a bag of his accumulated wagesin a corner of the mud floor, to see, as he facetiously expressed it, if it would grow. Mr. Bill Johnson had also saved his "cow money" fromBlack Tex and banked it with Hardy, who had a little cache of his own, as well. With their finances thus nicely disposed of the two partnersswept the floor, cleaned up the cooking dishes, farmed out theirlaundry to a squaw, and set their house in order generally. They werejust greasing up their _reatas_ for a run after the wild horses ofBronco Mesa when Rafael pulled in with a wagon-load of supplies anddestroyed their peaceful life. 

It was late when the grinding and hammering of wheels upon theboulders of the creek-bed announced his near approach and Creede wentout to help unload the provisions. A few minutes later he stepped intothe room where Hardy was busily cooking and stood across the tablefrom him with his hands behind his back, grinning mischievously. 

"Rufe, " he said, "you've got a girl. "

Hardy looked up quickly and caught the significance of his pose, buthe did not smile. He did not even show an interest in the play. 

"How do you figure that out?" he asked, indifferently. 

"Oh, I know, " drawled Creede. "Got a letter from her. "

A single hawk-like glance was the only answer to this sally. 

"She says: 'Why the hell don't you write!'" volunteered the cowboy. 

"'S that so!" commented Hardy, and then he went on with his cooking. 

For a minute Creede stood watching him, his eyes keen to detect theslightest quaver, but the little man seemed suddenly to have forgottenhim; he moved about absently, mechanically, dropping nothing, burningnothing, yet far away, as in a dream. 

"Huh!" exclaimed Creede, disgusted with his own make-believe, "youdon't seem to care whether school keeps or not. I'll excuse you fromany further work this evenin'--here's your mail. "

He drew a bundle of letters from behind his back and dropped itheavily upon the table, but even then Hardy did not rise. 

"Guess the Old Man must've forwarded my mail, " he remarked, smiling atthe size of the pack. "I've been knocking around so, I haven'treceived a letter in a year. Chuck 'em on my desk, will ye?"

"Sure, " responded Creede, and stepping across the broad living-room hethrew the bundle carelessly on the bed. 

"You're like me, " he remarked, drawing his chair up sociably tosupper, "I ain't got a letter fer so long I never go near the dam'post office. "

He sighed, and filled his plate with beans. 

"Ever been in St. Louis?" he inquired casually. "No? They say it's afine burg. Think I'll save up my _dinero_ and try it a whirl someday. "

The supper table was cleared and Creede had lit his second cigarettebefore Hardy reverted to the matter of his mail. 

"Well, " he said, "I might as well look over those letters--may be athousand-dollar check amongst them. "

Then, stepping into his room, he picked up the package, examined itcuriously, and cut the cords with his knife. 

A sheaf of twenty or more letters spilled out and, sitting on the edgeof the bed, he shuffled them over in the uncertain light of the fire, noting each inscription with a quick glance; and as he gathered up thelast he quietly tucked three of them beneath the folds of hisblankets--two in the same hand, bold and dashing yet stamped with acertain feminine delicacy and grace, and each envelope of a pale blue;the third also feminine, but inscribed in black and white, a crookedlittle hand that strayed across the page, yet modestly shrank fromtrespassing on the stamp. 

With the remainder of his mail Hardy blundered over to the table, dumping the loose handful in a great pile before the weak glimmer ofthe lamp. 

"There, " he said, as Creede blinked at the heap, "I reckon that's mailenough for both of us. You can read the advertisements and I'll seewhat the judge has to say for himself. Pitch in, now. " He waved hishand towards a lot of business envelopes, but Creede shook his headand continued to smoke dreamily. 

"Nope, " he said briefly, "don't interest me. "

He reached out and thumbed the letters over dumbly, spelling out along word here and there or scrutinizing some obscure handwritingcuriously, as if it were Chinese, or an Indian sign on a rock. Then, shoving back his chair, he watched Hardy's face as he skimmed rapidlythrough the first letter. 

"Good news in the first part of it and bad in the last, " he remarked, as Hardy put it down. 

"That's right, " admitted Hardy, "but how'd you know?"

He gazed up at his complacent partner with a look of innocent wonder, and Creede laughed. 

"W'y, hell boy, " he said, "I can read you like a book. Your face tellsthe whole story as you go along. After you've been down here inArizona a few seasons and got them big eyes of yourn squinched down alittle--well, I may have to ast you a few questions, then. "

He waved his hand in a large gesture and blew out a cloud of smoke, while a twinkle of amusement crept into Hardy's unsquinched eyes. 

"Maybe I'm smoother than I look, " he suggested dryly. "You big, fatfellows get so self-satisfied sometimes that you let lots of things goby you. "

"Well, I'll take my chances on you, " answered Creede placidly. "Whatdid the old judge say?"

"He says you did fine with the cattle, " said Hardy, "and sold 'em justin time--the market fell off within a week after we shipped. "

"Um-huh, " grunted Creede. "And what's the bad bunch of news at theend?"

The bad bunch of news was really of a personal nature, stirring upunpleasant memories, but Hardy passed it off by a little benevolentdissimulation. 

"He says he's mighty glad I steered the sheep away, but there issomething funny going on back in Washington; some combine of the sheepand lumber interests has got in and blocked the whole Forest Reservebusiness and there won't be any Salagua Forest Reserve this year. So Iguess my job of sheep-wrangler is going to hold; at least the judgeasked me to stay with it until Fall. "

"Well, you stay then, Rufe, " said Creede earnestly, "becauseI've kinder got stuck on you--I like your style, " he added halfapologetically. 

"All right, Jeff, " said Hardy. "Here's another letter--from my father. See if you can guess what it is like. "

He set his face rigidly and read the short letter through without aquaver. 

"You and the Old Man have had a fallin'-out, " observed Creede, with ashrewd grin, "and he says when you git good and tired of bein' a dam'fool you might as well come home. "

"Well, that's about the size of it, " admitted Hardy. "I never told youmuch about my father, did I?"

"Never knew you had one, " said Creede, "until Bill Johnson began toblow about what an Injun-fighter he was. I reckon that's where you gityour sportin' blood, ain't it?"

"Well, I'll tell you, " began Hardy. "The Old Man and I never did getalong together. He's used to commanding soldiers and all that, and I'mkind of quiet, but he always took a sneaking pride in me when I was aboy, I guess. Anyway, every time I'd get into a fight around the postand lick two or three Mexican kids, or do some good work riding orshooting, he'd say I'd be a man before my mother, or something likethat--but that was as far as he got. And all the time, on the quiet, he was educating me for the Army. His father was a captain, and he's acolonel, and I can see now he was lotting on my doing as well orbetter--but hell, that only made matters worse. "

He slid down in his chair and gazed into the fire gloomily. It was thefirst time Creede had heard his partner use even the mildest of therange expletives, for in that particular he was still a tenderfoot, and the word suddenly conveyed to him the depths of the little man'sabandonment and despair. 

"Why--what was the matter?" he inquired sympathetically. "Couldn't yougit no appointment?"

"Huh!" growled Hardy. "I guess you know, all right. Look at me!" heexclaimed, in a sudden gust of passion and resentment. "Why, damn it, man, I'm an inch too short!"

"Well--I'll--be--dogged!" breathed Creede. "I never thought of that!"

"No, " rejoined Hardy bitterly, "nor the Old Man, either--not until Istopped growing! Well, he hasn't had a bit of use for me since. That'sthe size of it. And he didn't take any pains to conceal the fact--mostarmy men don't. There's only one man in the world to them, and that'sa soldier; and if you're not a soldier, you're nothing. "

He waved a hand as if dismissing himself from the universe, and sankmoodily into his seat, while Creede looked him over in silence. 

"Rufe, " he said quietly, "d'ye remember that time when I picked you tobe boss sheep-wrangler, down at Bender? Well, I might as well tell youabout that now--'t won't do no harm. The old judge couldn't figure outwhat it was I see in you to recommend you for the job. Like's not youdon't know yourself. _He_ thought I was pickin' you because you was apeaceful guy, and wouldn't fight Black Tex; but that's where he gotfooled, and fooled bad! I picked you because I knew dam' well you_would_ fight!"

He leaned far over across the table and his eyes glowed with a fiercelight. 

"D'ye think I want some little suckin' mamma's-joy of a diplomat on myhands when it comes to a show-down with them sheepmen?" he cried. "No, by God, I want a _man_, and you're the boy, Rufe; so shake!"

He rose and held out his hand. Hardy took it. 

"I wouldn't have sprung this on you, pardner, " he continuedapologetically, "if I didn't see you so kinder down in the mouth aboutyour old man. But I jest want you to know that they's one man thatappreciates you for a plain scrapper. And I'll tell you another thing;when the time comes you'll look jest as big over the top of asix-shooter as I do, and stand only half the chanst to git hit. W'y, shucks!" he exclaimed magnanimously, "my size is agin' me at everyturn; my horse can't hardly pack me, I eat such a hell of a lot, and, well, I never can git a pair of pants to fit me. What's this hereletter?"

He picked one up at random, and Hardy ascertained that his tailor somesix months previously had moved to a new and more central location, where he would be pleased to welcome all his old customers. But thesubject of diminutive size was effectually dismissed and, havingcheered up his little friend as best he could, Creede seized theoccasion to retire. Lying upon his broad back in his blankets, withTommy purring comfortably in the hollow of his arm, he smoked out hiscigarette in speculative silence, gazing up at the familiar starswhose wheelings mark off the cowboy's night, and then dropped quietlyto sleep, leaving his partner to brood over his letters alone. 

For a long time he sat there, opening them one by one--the vague andindifferent letters which drift in while one is gone; and at last hestole silently across the dirt floor and brought out the three lettersfrom his bed. There in a moment, if he had been present, Creede mighthave read him like a book; his lips drawn tight, his eyes big andstaring, as he tore open one of the pale blue envelopes with tremblinghands. The fragments of a violet, shattered by the long journey, fellbefore him as he plucked out the note, and its delicate fragrance roseup like incense as he read. He hurried through the missive, as ifseeking something which was not there, then his hungry eyes left theunprofitable page and wandered about the empty room, only to come backto those last words: "Always your Friend, Kitty Bonnair. "

"Always your friend, " he repeated bitterly--"always your friend. Ah, God!" He sighed wearily and shook his head. For a moment he lapsedinto dreams; then, reaching out, he picked up the second letter, postmarked over a year before, and examined it idly. The very hour ofits collection was recorded--"Ferry Sta. 1. 30 A. M. "--and the date hecould never forget. Written on that very same day, and yet its messagehad never reached him!

He could see as in a vision the shrouded form of Kitty Bonnairslipping from her door at midnight to fling a final word after him, not knowing how far he would flee; he could see the lonely mailcollector, half obscured in the San Francisco fog, as he scooped theletter from the box with many others and boarded the car for theferry. It was a last retort, and likely bitter, for he had spoken inanger himself, and Kitty was not a woman to be denied. There was anexaggerated quirk to the square corners of her letters, a brusqueshading of the down strokes--undoubtedly Kitty was angry. But for oncehe had disarmed her--it was a year after, now, and he had read herforgiveness first! Yet it was with a strange sinking of the heart thathe opened the blue envelope and stared at the scribbled words:

DEAR FRIEND THAT WAS: My heart is very sore to-night--I had trustedyou so--I had depended upon you so--and now you have deliberatelybroken all your faith and promises. Rufus, I had thought youdifferent from other men--more gentle, more considerate, more capableof a true friendship which I fondly hoped would last forever--but now, oh, I can never forgive you! Just when life was heaviest withdisappointments, just when I was leaning upon you most as a truefriend and comrade--then you must needs spoil it all. And after I hadtold you I could never love any one! Have you forgotten all that Itold you in the balcony? Have you forgotten all that I have risked forthe friendship I held so dear? And then to spoil it all! Oh, I hateyou--I hate you!

He stopped and stiffened in his chair, and his eyes turned wild withhorror; then he gathered his letters together blindly and crept awayto bed. In the morning he arose and went about his work withmouse-like quietness, performing all things thoroughly and well, talking, even laughing, yet with a droop like that of a woundedcreature that seeks only to hide and escape. 

Creede watched him furtively, hung around the house for a while, thenstrode out to the pasture and caught up his horse. 

"Be back this aft, " he said, and rode majestically away up the cañon, where he would be out of the way. For men, too, have their instinctsand intuitions, and they are even willing to leave alone that whichthey cannot remedy and do not understand. 

As Creede galloped off, leaving the ranch of a sudden lonely andquiet, Tommy poked his head anxiously out through a slit in the canvasbottom of the screen door and began to cry--his poor cracked voice, all broken from calling for help from the coyotes, quavering dismally. In his most raucous tones he continued this lament for his masteruntil at last Hardy gathered him up and held him to his breast. 

"Ah, Kitty, Kitty, " he said, and at the caressing note in his voicethe black cat began to purr hoarsely, raising his scrawny head in theecstasy of being loved. Thief and reprobate though he was, and sadlygiven to leaping upon the table and flying spitefully at dogs, eventhat rough creature felt the need of love; how much more thesensitive and high-bred man, once poet and scholar, now cowboy andsheep-wrangler, but always the unhappy slave of Kitty Bonnair. 

The two letters lay charred to ashes among the glowing coals, buttheir words, even the kindest meant, were seared deep in his heart, fresh hurts upon older scars, and as he sat staring at the gaunt_sahuaros_ on the hilltops he meditated gloomily upon his reply. Then, depositing Tommy on the bed, he sat down at his desk before theiron-barred window and began to write. 

 DEAR FRIEND THAT WAS: Your two letters came together--the one that you have just sent, and the one written on that same night, which I hope I may some day forget. It was not a very kind letter--I am sorry that I should ever have offended you, but it was not gently done. No friend could ever speak so to another, I am sure. As for the cause, I am a human being, a man like other men, and I am not ashamed. Yet that I should so fail to read your mind I am ashamed. Perhaps it was my egotism, which made me over-bold, thinking that any woman could love me. But if what I offered was nothing to you, if even for a moment you hated me, it is enough. Now for all this talk of friendship--I am not your friend and never will be; and if, after what has passed, you are my friend, I ask but one thing--let me forget. For I will never come back, I will never write, I will never submit. Surely, with all that life offers you, you can spare me the humiliation of being angry with you. 

 I am now engaged in work which, out of consideration for Judge Ware, I cannot leave; otherwise I would not ask you not to write to me. 

 Trusting that you will remember me kindly to your mother, I remain, sincerely, Rufus Hardy. 

He signed his name at the bottom, folded the sheet carefully, andthrust the sealed envelope into an inner pocket. Then for the firsttime, he drew out the third letter and spread its pages before him--along letter, full of news, yet asking no questions. The tense linesabout his lips relaxed as he read, he smiled whimsically as he heardof the queer doings of his old-time friends; how these two had runaway and got married in order to escape a church wedding, how TupperBrowne had painted a likeness of Mather in Hades--after the "Dante" ofDoré--and had been detected in the act; and then this little note, cued in casually near the end:

 Kitty Bonnair has given up art for the present on account of her eyes, and has gone in for physical culture and riding lessons in the park. She dropped in at the last meeting of The Circle, and I told her how curiously father had encountered you at Bender. We all miss you very much at The Circle--in fact, it is not doing so well of late. Kitty has not attended a meeting in months, and I often wonder where we may look for another Poet, Philosopher, and Friend--unless you will come back! Father did not tell me where you had been or what you intended to do, but I hope you have not given up the Muse. To encourage you I will send down a book, now and then, and you may send me a poem. Is it a bargain? Then good-bye. 

 With best wishes, LUCY WARE. 

 P. S. --I met your father on the street the other day, and he seemed very much pleased to hear how well you were getting along. 

Hardy put the letter down and sighed. 

"Now there's a thoroughly nice girl, " he said. "I wonder why shedoesn't get married. " Then, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper, hebegan to write, describing the beauty of the country; the noblequalities of his horse, Chapuli, the Grasshopper; the march of thevast army of sheep; Creede, Tommy, and whatnot, with all the pent-upenthusiasm of a year's loneliness. When it was ended he looked at theletter with a smile, wondering whether to send it by freight orexpress. Six cents in stamps was the final solution of the problem, and as his pocketbook contained only four he stuck them on and awaitedhis partner's return. 

"Say, Jeff, " he called, as Creede came in from the pasture, "have yougot any stamps?"

"Any which?" inquired Creede suspiciously. 

"Any postage stamps--to put on letters. "

"Huh!" exclaimed Creede. "You must think I've got a girl--or importantbusiness in the States. No, I'll tell you. The only stamp I've got isin a glass frame, hung up on the wall--picture of George Washington, you know. Haven't you never seen it? W'y, it's right there in theparler--jest above the pianney--and a jim-dandy piece of steelengraving she is, too. " He grinned broadly as he concluded thisrunning fire of jest, but his partner remained serious to the end. 

"Well, " he said, "I guess I'll go down to Moroni in the morning, then. "

"What ye goin' down there for?" demanded Creede incredulously. 

"Why, to buy a stamp, of course, " replied Hardy, "it's only fortymiles, isn't it?" And early in the morning, true to his word, hesaddled up Chapuli and struck out down the river. 

From the doorway Creede watched him curiously, his lips parted in adubious smile. 

"There's something funny goin' on here, ladies, " he observed sagely, "something funny--and I'm dogged if I savvy what it is. " He stoopedand scooped up Tommy in one giant paw. "Well, Tom, Old Socks, " hesaid, holding him up where he could sniff delicately at the rafters, "you've got a pretty good nose, how about it, now--can you smell arat?" But even Tommy could not explain why a man should ride fortymiles in order to buy a stamp. 

CHAPTER IX

MORONI

The Mormon settlement of Moroni proved to belong to that large classof Western "cities" known as "string-towns"--a long line of stores oneither side of a main street, brick where fires have swept away theshacks, and wood with false fronts where dynamite or a change of windhas checked the conflagration; a miscellaneous conglomeration ofsaloons, restaurants, general stores, and livery stables, all verysatisfying to the material wants of man, but in the ensemble notover-pleasing to the eye. 

At first glance, Moroni might have been Reno, Nevada; or Gilroy, California; or Deming, New Mexico; or even Bender--except for therailroad. A second glance, however, disclosed a smaller number ofdisconsolate cow ponies standing in front of the saloons and a largernumber of family rigs tied to the horse rack in front of Swope'sStore; there was also a tithing house with many doors, a brick church, and women and children galore. And for twenty miles around there wasnothing but flowing canals and irrigated fields waving with wheat andalfalfa, all so green and prosperous that a stranger from the backcountry was likely to develop a strong leaning toward the faith beforehe reached town and noticed the tithing house. 

As for Hardy, his eyes, so long accustomed to the green lawns andtrees of Berkeley, turned almost wistful as he gazed away across therich fields, dotted with cocks of hay or resounding to the whirr ofthe mower; but for the sweating Latter Day Saints who labored in thefields, he had nothing but the pitying contempt of the cowboy. It wasa fine large country, to be sure, and produced a lot of very necessaryhorse feed, but Chapuli shied when his feet struck the freshlysprinkled street, and somehow his master felt equally ill at ease. 

Having purchased his stamp and eaten supper, he was wanderingaimlessly up and down the street--that being the only pleasure andrecourse of an Arizona town outside the doors of a saloon--when in themedley of heterogeneous sounds he heard a familiar voice boom out andas abruptly stop. It was evening and the stores were closed, butvarious citizens still sat along the edge of the sidewalk, smoking andtalking in the semi-darkness. Hardy paused and listened a moment. Thevoice which he had heard was that of no ordinary man; it was deep andresonant, with a rough, overbearing note almost military in itsbrusqueness; but it had ceased and another voice, low and protesting, had taken its place. In the gloom he could just make out the forms ofthe two men, sitting on their heels against the wall and engaged in aone-sided argument. The man with the Southern drawl was doing all thetalking, but as Hardy passed by, the other cut in on him again. 

"Well, " he demanded in masterful tones, "what ye goin' to do aboutit?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he exclaimed:

"Hello, there, Mr. Hardy!"

"Hello, " responded Hardy. "Who is this, anyway?"

"Jim Swope, " replied the voice, with dignified directness. "What'reyou doing in these parts?"

"Came down to buy a postage stamp, " replied Hardy, following a habithe had of telling the truth in details. 

"Huh!" grunted Swope. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go to Bender forit--that Jew over there might make you a rate!"

"Nope, " responded Hardy, ignoring the too-evident desire of the Moronistorekeeper to draw him into an argument. "He couldn't do it--they saythe Government loses money every time it sells one. Nice town you'vegot down here, " he remarked, by way of a parting compliment; butSwope was not satisfied to let him escape so easily. 

"Hold on, there!" he exclaimed, rousing up from his place. "What'syour bloody hurry? Come on back here and shake hands with Mr. Thomas--Mr. Thomas is my boss herder up in Apache County. Thinking ofbringing him down here next Fall, " he added laconically, and by thesubtle change in his voice Hardy realized intuitively that that movehad been the subject of their interrupted argument. More than that, hefelt vaguely that he himself was somehow involved in the discussion, the more so as Mr. Thomas balked absolutely at shaking hands withhim. 

"I hope Mr. Thomas will find it convenient to stop at the ranch, " hemurmured pleasantly, "but don't let me interfere with your business. "

"Well, I guess that's all to-night, Shep, " remarked Swope, takingcharge of the situation. "I jest wanted you to meet Hardy while youwas together. This is the Mr. Hardy, of the Dos S outfit, youunderstand, " he continued, "and a white cowman! If you have to goacross his range, go quick--and tell your men the same. I want themdam' tail-twisters up in that Four Peaks country to know that it paysto be decent to a sheepman, and I'm goin' to show some of 'em, too, before I git through! But any time my sheep happen to git on yourrange, Mr. Hardy, " he added reassuringly, "you jest order 'em off, andMr. Thomas here will see to it that they go!"

He turned upon his boss herder with a menacing gesture, as if charginghim with silence, and Thomas, whose sole contribution to theconversation had been a grunt at the end, swung about and ambledsullenly off up the street. 

"Feelin' kinder bad to-night, " explained Swope, as his _mayordomo_butted into the swinging doors of a saloon and disappeared, "but youremember what I said about them sheep. How do things look up yourway?" he inquired. "Feed pretty good?"

"It's getting awfully dry, " replied Hardy noncommittally. "I supposeyour sheep are up on the Black Mesa by this time. "

"Ump!" responded the sheepman, and then there was a long pause. "Sitdown, " he said at last, squatting upon the edge of the sidewalk, "Iwant to talk business with you. "

He lit a short black pipe and leaned back comfortably against a post. 

"You seem to be a pretty smooth young feller, " he remarked, patronizingly. "How long have you been in these parts? Two months, eh?How'd Judge Ware come to get a-hold of you?"

"Just picked me up down at Bender, " replied Hardy. 

"Oh, jest picked you up, hey? I thought mebby you was some kin to him. Ain't interested in the cattle, are you? Well, I jest thought youmight be, being put in over Jeff that way, you know. Nice boy, that, but hot-headed as a goat. He'll be making hair bridles down in Yumasome day, I reckon. His old man was the same way. So you ain't no kinto the judge and've got no int'rest in the cattle, either, eh? H'm, how long do you figure on holding down that job?"

"Don't know, " replied Hardy; "might quit to-day or get firedto-morrow. It's a good place, though. "

"Not the only one, though, " suggested the sheepman shrewdly, "not by adam' sight! Ever investigate the sheep business? No? Then you'veoverlooked something! I've lived in this country for nigh onto twentyyears, and followed most every line of business, but I didn't make mypile punching cows, nor running a store, neither--I made it _raisingsheep_. Started in with nothing at the time of the big drought in '92, herding on shares. Sheep did well in them good years that followed, and first thing I knew I was a sheepman. Now I've got forty thousandhead, and I'm making a hundred per cent on my investment every year. Of course, if there comes a drought I'll lose half of 'em, but didyou ever sit down and figure out a hundred per cent a year? Well, fivethousand this year is ten next year, and ten is twenty the next year, and the twenty looks like forty thousand dollars at the end of threeyears. That's quite a jag of money, eh? I won't say what it would bein three years more, but here's the point. You're a young man and outto make a stake, I suppose, like the rest of 'em. What's the use ofwasting your time and energy trying to hold that bunch of half-starvedcows together? What's the use of going into a _poor_ business, man, when there's a _better_ business; and I'll tell you right now, thesheep business is the coming industry of Arizona. The sheepmen aregoing to own this country, from Flag to the Mexican line, and youmight as well git on the boat, boy, before it's too late. "

He paused, as if waiting for his points to sink home; then he reachedout and tapped his listener confidentially on the knee. 

"Hardy, " he said, "I like your style. You've got a head, and you knowhow to keep your mouth shut. More'n that, you don't drink. A man likeyou could git to be a boss sheep-herder in six months; you could makea small fortune in three years and never know you was workin'. Youdon't need to work, boy; I kin git a hundred men to work--what I wantis a man that can _think_. Now, say, I'm goin' to need a man prettysoon--come around and see me some time. "

"All right, " said Hardy, reluctantly, "but I might as well tell younow that I'm satisfied where I am. "

"Satisfied!" ripped out Swope, with an oath. "Satisfied! Why, manalive, you're jest hanging on by your eyebrows up there at HiddenWater! _You_ haven't got nothin'; you don't even own the house youlive in. I could go up there to-morrow and file on that land and youcouldn't do a dam' thing. Judge Ware thought he was pretty smooth whenhe euchred me out of that place, but I want to tell you, boy--and youcan tell him, if you want to--that Old Man Winship never held no titleto that place, and it's public land to-day. That's all public land upthere; there ain't a foot of land in the Four Peaks country that Ican't run my sheep over if I want to, and keep within my legal rights. So that's where you're at, Mr. Hardy, if you want to know!"

He stopped and rammed a cut of tobacco into his pipe, while Hardytapped his boot meditatively. "Well, " he said at last, "if that's theway things are, I'm much obliged to you for not sheeping us out thisSpring. Of course, I haven't been in the country long, and I don'tknow much about these matters, but I tried to accommodate you all Icould, thinking--"

"That ain't the point, " broke in Swope, smoking fiercely, "I ain'tthreatening ye, and I appreciate your hospitality--but here's thepoint. What's the use of your monkeying along up there on a job thatis sure to play out, when you can go into a better business? Answer methat, now!"

But Hardy only meditated in silence. It was beyond contemplation thathe should hire himself out as a sheep-herder, but if he said sofrankly it might call down the wrath of Jim Swope upon both him andthe Dos S. So he stood pat and began to fish for information. 

"Maybe you just think my job is going to play out, " he suggested, diplomatically. "If I'd go to a cowman, now, or ask Judge Ware, theymight tell me I had it cinched for life. "

Swope puffed smoke for a minute in a fulminating, dangerous silence. 

"Huh!" he said. "I can dead easy answer for that. Your job, Mr. Hardy, lasts jest as long as I want it to--and no longer. Now, you can figurethat out for yourself. But I'd jest like to ask you a question, sinceyou're so smart; how come all us sheepmen kept off your upper rangethis year?"

"Why, " said Hardy innocently, "I tried to be friendly and treated youas white as I could, and I suppose--"

"Yes, you suppose, " sneered Swope grimly, "but I'll jest tell you; wewanted you to hold your job. "

"That's very kind of you, I'm sure, " murmured Hardy. 

"Yes, " replied the sheepman sardonically, "it is--dam' kind of us. Butnow the question is: What ye goin' to do about it?"

"Why, in what way?"

"Well, now, " began Swope, patiently feeling his way, "suppose, jestfor instance, that some fool Mexican herder should accidentally get inon your upper range--would you feel it your duty to put him off?"

"Well, " said Hardy, hedging, "I really hadn't considered the matterseriously. Of course, if Judge Ware--"

"The judge is in San Francisco, " put in Swope curtly. "Now, supposethat _all_ of us sheepmen should decide that we wanted some of thatgood feed up on Bronco Mesa, and, suppose, furthermore, that we shouldall go up there, as we have a perfect legal right to do, what wouldyou do?"

"I don't know, " replied Hardy politely. 

"Well, supposen I dropped a stick of dynamite under you, " burst outSwope hoarsely, "would you jump? Speak up, man, you know what I'mtalking about. You don't think you can stand off the whole Sheepmen'sProtective Association, do you? Well, then, will ye abide by the lawand give us our legal rights or will ye fight like a dam' fool and gitsent to Yuma for your pains? That's what I want to know, and when youtalk to me you talk to the whole Sheepmen's Association, with moneyenough in its treasury to send up every cowman in the Four Peakscountry! What I want to know is this--will you fight?"

"I might, " answered Hardy quietly. 

"Oh, you might, hey?" jeered the sheepman, tapping his pipe ominouslyon the sidewalk. "You might, he-ey? Well, look at Jeff Creede--_he_fought--and what's he got to show for it? Look at his old man--_he_fought--and where is he now? Tell me that!

"But, say, now, " he exclaimed, changing his tone abruptly, "this ain'twhat I started to talk about. I want to speak with you, Mr. Hardy, ona matter of business. You jest think them things over until I see youagain--and, of course, all this is on the q. T. But now let's talkbusiness. When you want to buy a postage stamp you come down here toMoroni, don't you? And why? Why, because it's near, sure! But when youwant a wagon-load of grub--and there ain't no one sells provisionscheaper than I do, beans four-fifty, bacon sixteen cents, flour adollar-ninety, everything as reasonable--you haul it clean across thedesert from Bender. That easy adds a cent a pound on every ton youpull, to say nothin' of the time. Well, what I want to know is this:Does Einstein sell you grub that much cheaper? Take flour, forinstance--what does that cost you?"

"I don't know, " answered Hardy, whose anger was rising underthis unwarranted commercial badgering. "Same as with you, Isuppose--dollar-ninety. "

"Ah!" exclaimed Swope triumphantly, "and the extra freight on a sackwould be fifty cents, wouldn't it--a cent a pound, and a fifty-poundsack! Well, now say, Hardy, we're good friends, you know, and allthat--and Jasp and me steered all them sheep around you, yourecollect--what's the matter with your buying your summer supplies offof me? I'll guarantee to meet any price that Bender Sheeny canmake--and, of course, I'll do what's right by you--but, by Joe, Ithink you owe it to me!"

He paused and waited impatiently for his answer, but once more Hardybalked him. 

"I don't doubt there's a good deal in what you say, Mr. Swope, " hesaid, not without a certain weariness, "but you'll have to take thatmatter up with Judge Ware. "

"Don't you have the ordering of the supplies?" demanded Swopesharply. 

"Yes, but he pays for them. All I do is to order what I want and O. K. The bills. My credit is good with Einstein, and the rate lies betweenhim and Judge Ware. "

"Well, your credit is good here, too, " replied Swope acidly, "but Isee you'd rather trade with a Jew than stand in with your friends, anyday. "

"I tell you I haven't got a thing to do with it, " replied Hardywarmly. "I take my orders from Judge Ware, and if he tells me to tradehere I'll be glad to do so--it'll save me two days' freighting--butI'm not the boss by any means. "

"No, nor you ain't much of a supe, neither, " growled Swope morosely. "In fact, I consider you a dam' bum supe. Some people, now, after theyhad been accommodated, would take a little trouble, but I notice youain't breaking your back for me. Hell, no, you don't care if I _never_make a deal. But that's all right, Mr. Hardy, I'll try and do as muchfor you about that job of yourn. "

"Well, you must think I'm stuck on that job, " cried Hardy hotly, "theway you talk about it! You seem to have an idea that if I get let outit'll make some difference to me, but I might as well tell you rightnow, Mr. Swope, that it won't. I've got a good horse and I've gotmoney to travel on, and I'm just holding this job to accommodate JudgeWare. So if you have any idea of taking it out on him you can just saythe word and I'll quit!"

"Um-m!" muttered the sheepman, taken aback by this sudden burst oftemper, "you're a hot-headed boy, ain't you?" He surveyed himcritically in the half light, as if appraising his value as a fighter, and then proceeded in a more conciliatory manner. "But you mustn't letyour temper git away with you like that, " he said. "You're likely tosay something you'll be sorry for later. "

"Oh, I don't know, " retorted Hardy. "It might relieve my mind some. I've only been in this country a few months, but if a sheepman is theonly man that has any legal or moral rights I'd like to know about it. You talk about coming in on our upper range, having a right to thewhole country, and all that. Now I'd like to ask you whether in youropinion a cowman has got a right to live?"

"Oh, tut, tut, now, " protested Swope, "you're gettin' excited. "

"Well, of course I'm getting excited, " replied Hardy, with feeling. "You start in by telling me the sheepmen are going to take the wholecountry, from Flag to the line; then you ask me what I'd do if aMexican came in on us; then you say you can sheep us out any time youwant to, and what am I going to do about it! Is that the way you talkto a man who has done his best to be your friend?"

"I never said we was going to sheep you out, " retorted the sheepmansullenly. "And if I'd 'a' thought for a minute you would take on likethis about it I'd've let you go bust for your postage stamps. "

"I know you didn't _say_ it, " said Hardy, "but you hinted it good andstrong, all right. And when a man comes as near to it as you have Ithink I've got a right to ask him straight out what his intentionsare. Now how about it--are you going to sheep us out next Fall or areyou going to give us a chance?"

"Oh hell!" burst out Swope, in a mock fury, "I'm never going to talkto _you_ any more! You're crazy, man! _I_ never said I was going tosheep you out!"

"No, " retorted Hardy dryly, "and you never said you wasn't, either. "

"Yes, I did, too, " spat back Swope, seizing at a straw. "Didn't Iintroduce you to my boss herder and tell him to keep off your range?"

"Oh, I don't know, " said Hardy coldly. "Did you?"

For a moment the sheepman sat rigid in the darkness. Then he rose tohis feet, cursing. 

"Well, you can jest politely go to hell, " he said, with venomousdeliberation, and racked off down the street. 

CHAPTER X

"FEED MY SHEEP"

The slow, monotonous days of Summer crept listlessly by like dreamswhich, having neither beginning nor end, pass away into nothingness, leaving only a dim memory of restlessness and mystery. 

In the relentless heat of noon-day the earth seemed to shimmer andswim in a radiance of its own; at evening the sun set in a gloryincomparable; and at dawn it returned to its own. Then in the longbreathless hours the cows sought out the scanty shadow of the cañonwall, sprawling uneasily in the sand; the lizards crept far back intothe crevices of the rocks; the birds lingered about the water holes, throttling their tongues, and all the world took on a silence that wasalmost akin to death. As the Summer rose to its climax a hot windbreathed in from the desert, clean and pure, but withering in itsintensity; the great bowlders, superheated in the glare of day, irradiated the stored-up energy of the sun by night until even therattlesnakes, their tough hides scorched through by the burning sands, sought out their winter dens to wait for a touch of frost. There wasonly one creature in all that heat-smitten land that defied the swayof the Sun-God and went his way unheeding--man, the indomitable, theconqueror of mountains and desert and sea. 

When the sun was hottest, then was the best time to pursue the blackstallion of Bronco Mesa, chasing him by circuitous ways to the riverwhere he and his band could drink. But though more than one fine mareand suckling, heavy with water, fell victim, the black stallion, having thought and intelligence like a man, plunged through the water, leaving his thirst unquenched, refusing with a continency andsteadfastness rare even among men to sell his liberty at any price. Inthe round corral at Hidden Water there was roping and riding as Creedeand Hardy gentled their prizes; in the cool evenings they rode forthalong the Alamo, counting the cows as they came down to water ordoctoring any that were sick; and at night they lay on their cotsbeneath the _ramada_ telling long stories till they fell asleep. 

At intervals of a month or more Hardy rode down to Moroni andeach time he brought back some book of poems, or a novel, or abundle of magazines; but if he received any letters he nevermentioned it. Sometimes he read in the shade, his face sobered to ascholarly repose, and when the mood came and he was alone hewrote verses--crude, feverish, unfinished--and destroyed them, furtively. 

He bore his full share of the rough work, whether riding orhorse-breaking or building brush corrals, but while he responded toevery mood of his changeable companion he hid the whirl of emotionwhich possessed him, guarding the secret of his heart even whenwriting to Lucy Ware; and slowly, as the months crept by, the woundhealed over and left him whole. 

At last the days grew shorter, the chill came back into the morningair, and the great thunder-caps which all Summer had mantled thePeaks, scattering precarious and insufficient showers across theparching lowlands, faded away before the fresh breeze from the coast. Autumn had come, and, though the feed was scant, Creede started hisround-up early, to finish ahead of the sheep. Out on The Rolls thewild and runty cows were hiding their newborn calves; the spring twoswere grown to the raw-boned dignity of steers; and all must begathered quickly, before the dust arose in the north and the sheepmowed down the summer grass. Once more from their distant ranches themountain men trailed in behind their horses; the _rodéo_ hands droppedin from nowhere, mysteriously, talking loudly of high adventures butwith the indisputable marks of Mormon hay-forks on their thumbs. 

Before their restless energy The Rolls were swept bare of marketstock, and the upper end of the mesa as well, before the first sheepdust showed against the hills. The _rodéo_ outfit left Carrizo andcame down to Hidden Water, driving their herd before them, and stillno sheep appeared. So long had they strained their eyes for nothingthat the cowmen from the north became uneasy, dropping out one by oneto return to their ranches for fear that the sheep had crept in andlaid waste their pastures and corrals. Yet the round-up ended withouta band in sight, where before The Rolls had been ploughed intochannels by their multitude of feet. 

In a slow fever of apprehension Hardy rode ceaselessly along the rimof Bronco Mesa, without finding so much as a track. Throughout thatlong month of watching and waiting the memory of his conversation withJim Swope had haunted him, and with a sinister boding of impendingevil he had ridden far afield, even to the lower crossing at PabloMoreno's, where a few Mexicans and Basques were fording the shallowriver. Not one of those veiled threats and intimations had he confidedto Creede, for the orders from Judge Ware had been for peace and Jeffwas hot-headed and hasty; but in his own mind Hardy pictured a solidphalanx of sheep, led by Jasp Swope and his gun-fighting Chihuahuanos, drifting relentlessly in over the unravaged mesa. Even that he couldendure, trusting to some appeal or protest to save him from theultimate disaster, but the strain of this ominous waiting was morethan Hardy's nerves could stand. 

As the town herd was put on the long trail for Bender and the round-uphands began to spit dry for their first drink, the premonition of evilconquered him and he beckoned Creede back out of the rout. 

"I've got a hunch, " he said, "that these sheepmen are hanging backuntil you boys are gone, in order to raid the upper range. I don't_know_ anything, you understand, but I'm looking for trouble. How doesit look to you?"

"Well, " answered Creede sombrely, "I don't mind tellin' you that thisis a new one on me. It's the first fall gather that I can rememberwhen I didn't have a round-up with a sheepman or two. They're willin'enough to give us the go-by in the Spring, when there's grasseverywhere, but when they come back over The Rolls in the Fall and seewhat they've done to the feed--well, it's like fightin' crows out of awatermelon patch to protect that upper range. 

"The only thing I can think of is they may be held back by this dryweather. But, I tell you, Rufe, " he added, "it's jest as well I'mgoin'--one man can tell 'em to he'p themselves as good as two, and Imight get excited. You know your orders--and I reckon the sheepmen do, too, 's fer 's that goes. They're not so slow, if they do git lousy. But my God, boy, it hurts my feelin's to think of you all alone uphere, tryin' to appeal to Jasp Swope's better nature. " He twisted hislips, and shrugged his huge shoulders contemptuously. Then withoutenthusiasm he said: "Well, good luck, " and rode away after hiscattle. 

Creede's scorn for this new policy of peace had never been hidden, although even in his worst cursing spells he had never quite named theboss. But those same orders, if they ever became known, would call inthe rapacious sheepmen like vultures to a feast, and the bones of hiscattle--that last sorry remnant of his father's herds--would bleach onBronco Mesa with the rest, a mute tribute to the triumph of sheep. 

All that day Hardy rode up the Alamo until he stood upon the summit ofthe Juate and looked over the divide to the north, and still therewere no sheep. Not a smoke, not a dust streak, although the chill ofAutumn was in the air. In the distant Sierra Blancas the snow wasalready on the peaks and the frosts lay heavy upon the black mesa ofthe Mogollons. Where then could the sheep be, the tender, gentlynurtured sheep, which could stand neither heat in Summer nor cold inWinter, but must always travel, travel, feeding upon the freshest ofgreen grass and leaving a desert in their wake? The slow-wittedMexicans and Basques, who did not follow the lead of the Swopes, hadreturned on their fall migration with the regularity of animals, butall those cheery herders for whom he had cooked and slaved--Bazan, McDonald, the Swopes and their kin, who used the upper ford--were lostas if the earth had swallowed them up. 

The stars were shining when Hardy came in sight of the ranch at theend of that unprofitable day, and he was tired. The low roof of thehouse rose up gloomily before him, but while he was riding in a houndsuddenly raised his challenge in the darkness. Instantly his yell wasanswered by a chorus, and as Chapuli swerved from the rush of the packthe door was thrown open and the tall, gaunt form of Bill Johnsonstood outlined against the light. 

"Yea, Ribs; hey, Rock; down, Ring!" he hollered. "Hey, boys; hey, Suke!" And in a mighty chorus of bayings the long-eared hounds circledabout and returned to the feet of their master, wagging their tailsbut not abating their barking one whit. Standing bareheaded in thedoorway with his hair and beard bushed out like a lion's mane Johnsonstrove by kicks and curses to quiet their uproar, shouting again andagain some words which Hardy could not catch. 

At last, grabbing old Suke, the leader of the pack, by an ear, heslapped her until her yelpings silenced the rest; then, stepping outinto the opening, he exclaimed:

"My God, Hardy, is that you?"

"Sure, " replied Hardy impatiently. "Why, what's the matter?"

"Sheep!" shouted Johnson, throwing out his hands wildly, "thousands of'em, millions of 'em!"

"Sheep--where?" demanded Hardy. "Where are they?"

"They're on your upper range, boy, and more comin'!"

"What?" cried Hardy incredulously. "Why, how did they get up there? Ijust rode the whole rim to-day!"

"They come over the top of the Four Peaks, " shouted the old man, shaking with excitement. "Yes, sir, over the top of the Four Peaks! Myhounds took after a lion last night, and this mornin' I trailed 'emclean over into the middle fork where they had 'im treed. He jumpeddown and run when I come up and jist as we was hotfoot after him werun spang into three thousand head of sheep, drifting down from thepass, and six greasers and a white man in the rear with carbeens. Thewhole dam' outfit is comin' in on us. But we can turn 'em yet! Whar'sJeff and the boys?"

"They've gone to town with the cattle. "

"Well, you're dished then, " said the old man grimly. "Might as wellput up your horse and eat--I'm goin' home and see that they don't noneof 'em git in on me!"

"Whose sheep were they?" inquired Hardy, as he sat down to a hastymeal. 

"Don't ask me, boy, " replied Johnson. "I never had time to find out. One of them Mexicans took a shot at Rye and I pulled my gun on him, and then the boss herder he jumped in, and there we had it, back andforth. He claimed I was tryin' to stompede his sheep, but I _knowed_his greaser had tried to shoot my dog, and I told him so! And I toldhim furthermore that the first sheep or sheepman that p'inted his headdown the Pocket trail would stop lead; and every one tharafter, aslong as I could draw a bead. And by Gawd, I mean it!" He struck hisgnarled fist upon the table till every tin plate jumped, and his fieryeyes burned savagely as he paced about the room. 

At first peep of dawn Bill Johnson was in the saddle, his long-barrelledrevolver thrust pugnaciously into his boot, his 30-30 carbine across hisarm, and his hounds slouching dutifully along in the rear. Closebehind followed Hardy, bound for the Peaks, but though the morning wascold he had stripped off his coat and shaps, and everything whichmight conceal a weapon, leaving even his polished Colt's in hisblankets. If the sheep were to be turned now it could never be byarms. The sheepmen had stolen a march, Creede and his cowboys were faraway, and his only hope was the olive branch of peace. Yet as hespurred up the Carrizo trail he felt helpless and abused, like atried soldier who is sent out unarmed by a humanitarian commander. Onlyone weapon was left to him--the one which even Jim Swope hadnoticed--his head; and as he worked along up the hogback which led downfrom the shoulder of the Four Peaks he schooled himself to a Spartanpatience and fortitude. 

At last from a high cliff which overshadowed the broad cañon of themiddle fork, he looked down and saw the sheep, like a huge, dirty-brown blot, pouring in a hundred diverging lines down the valleyand feeding as they came. Higher and higher up the sides the old ewesfought their way, plucking at the long spears of grass which grewamong the rocks; and the advance guard, hurrying forward, nippedeagerly at the browse and foliage as they passed, until, at last, sometempting bush detained them too long and they were swallowed up inthe ruck. Little paths appeared in the leaders' wake, winding in andout among the bowlders; and like soldiers the sheep fell into line, moving forward with the orderly precision of an army. A herder withhis dogs trailed nonchalantly along the flank, the sun glinting fromhis carbine as he clambered over rocks, and in the rear another silentshepherd followed up the drag. So far it was a peaceful pastoralscene, but behind the herd where the camp rustler and his burrosshould have been there was a posse of men, and each man carried agun. 

Hardly had Chapuli mounted the ridge before every head was raised; theswarthy Mexicans unslung their guns with a flourish, and held them ata ready. Yet for half an hour the lone horseman sat there like astatue, and if he resented their coming or saw the dust of other bandsbehind, he made no sign. Even when the guard of men passed beneathhim, craning their necks uneasily, he still remained silent andimmobile, like a man who has councils of his own or leads a forcebehind. 

The leader of the vanguard of the sheep was a white man, and notunversed in the principles of war, for after trailing safely throughthe box of the cañon--where a single rock displaced would kill a scoreof sheep, and where the lone horseman had he so willed could havepotted half of the invaders from the heights--he turned his herd up aside cañon to the west and hastily pitched his camp on a ridge. As theheat of the day came on, the other bands up the cañon stopped also, and when the faint smoke showed Hardy that the camp rustlers werecooking dinner, he turned and rode for the leader's camp. 

Dinner was already served--beans, fried mutton, and bread, spread upona greasy canvas--and the hungry herders were shovelling it down withknives in their own primitive way when Hardy rode up the slope. As hecame into camp the Chihuahuanos dropped their plates, reached fortheir guns, and stood in awkward postures of defence, some waggingtheir big heads in a braggartly defiance, others, their couragewaning, grinning in the natural shame of the peasant. In Hardy theyrecognized a gentleman of _categoría_--and he never so much as glancedat them as he reined in his spirited horse. His eyes were fixed uponthe lone white man, their commander, who stood by the fire regardinghim with cold suspicion, and to whom he bowed distantly. 

"Good-morning, " he said, by way of introduction, and the sheepmanblinked his eyes in reply. 

"Whose sheep are those?" continued Hardy, coming to the point withmasterful directness, and once more the boss sheepman surveyed himwith suspicion. 

[Illustration: "Put up them guns, you gawky fools! This man ain't goingto eat ye!"]

"Mine, " he said, and Hardy returned his stare with a glance which, while decorously veiled, indicated that he knew he lied. The man was astranger to him, rather tall and slender, with drawn lips and an eyethat never wavered. His voice was tense with excitement and he kepthis right thumb hooked carelessly into the corner of his pocket, notfar from the grip of a revolver. As soon as he spoke Hardy knew him. 

"You are Mr. Thomas, aren't you?" he inquired, as if he had no thoughtof trouble. "I believe I met you once, down in Moroni. "

"Ump!" grunted Mr. Thomas unsociably, and at that moment one of theMexicans, out of awkwardness, dropped his gun. As he stooped to pickit up a slow smile crept over the cowman's lips, a smile whichexpressed polite amusement along with a measured contempt--and theboss herder was stung with a nameless shame at the false play. 

"Put up them guns, you dam' gawky fools!" he yelled in a frenzy ofrage. "Put 'em up, I say. This man ain't goin' to eat ye!" And thoughthe poor browbeaten Chihuahuanos understood not a word of English theyfelt somehow that they had been overzealous and shuffled back to theirblankets, like watchdogs that had been rebuked. 

"Now, " said the sheepman, taking his hand from his gun, "what can I dofor you, Mr. Hardy?"

"Well, " responded Hardy, "of course there are several things you_might_ do to accommodate me, but maybe you wouldn't mind telling mehow you got in here, just for instance?"

"Always glad to 'commodate--where I can, of course, " returned thesheepman grimly. "I came in over the top of them Four Peaks yonder. "

"Um, " said Hardy, glancing up at the rocky walls. "Then you must'vehad hooks on your eyebrows, for sure. I suppose the rest of the familyis coming, too! And, by the way, how is my friend, Mr. Swope?"

He appended this last with an artless smile, quite lacking inbitterness, but somehow the boss herder felt himself discredited bythe inquiry, as if he were consorting with thieves. It was the oldshame of the sheepman, the shame which comes to the social outcast, and burns upon the cheek of the dishonored bastard, but which isseared deepest into the heart of the friendless herder, theIshmaelite of the cow-country, whose hand is against every man andevery man's against him. Hunger and thirst he can endure, and theweariness of life, but to have all men turn away from him, toanswer him grudgingly, to feed him at their table, but refusethemselves to eat, this it is which turns his heart to bitternessand makes him a man to be feared. As Thomas had looked at this trimyoung cowboy, smooth-shaven and erect, sitting astride a bloodedhorse which snorted and pawed the ground delicately, and then hadglanced at the low and brutal Mexicans with whom his lot was cast, ablind fury had swept over him, wreaking its force upon his ownretainers; and now, when by implication he was classed with Jim Swope, he resented it still more bitterly. 

"Dam'fino, " he answered sullenly. "Haven't seen 'im for a month. "

"Oh, isn't he with you this trip?" asked Hardy, in surprise. "I hadhoped that I might find him up here. " There was a suggestion of ironyin his words which was not lost upon the _mayordomo_, but Thomas letthe remark pass in silence. 

"Perhaps his brother Jasper is along, " ventured Hardy. "No? Well, that's Jim's earmark on those sheep, and I know it. What's thematter?"

"Matter with what?" growled Thomas morosely. 

"Why, with Jim, of course. I thought after the pleasant times we hadtogether last Spring he'd be sure to come around. In fact, " he addedmeaningly, "I've been looking for him. "

At this naive statement, the sheepman could not restrain a smile. 

"You don't know Jim as well as I do, " he said, and there was asuggestion of bitterness in his voice which Hardy was not slow tonote. 

"Well, perhaps not, " he allowed; "but you know, and I know, that thisis no pleasure trip you're on--in fact, it's dangerous, and I neverthought that Jim Swope would send a man where he was afraid to gohimself. Now I've got nothing against you, Mr. Thomas, and of courseyou're working for him; but I ask you, as a man, don't you think, after what I've done for him, that Jim Swope ought to come alonghimself if he wants to sheep me out?

"I've fed him, and I've fed all his herders and all his friends; I'vegrained his horses when they were ga'nted down to a shadow because hisown sheep had cleaned up the feed; I've made him welcome to my houseand done everything I could for him; and all I asked in return wasthat he would respect this upper range. He knows very well that if hissheep go through here this Fall our cattle will die in the Winter, andhe knows that there is plenty of feed out on The Rolls where our cowscan't go, and yet he sends you in where he's scared to go himself, just to hog our last piece of good feed and to put us out of business. I asked him down in Moroni if he thought a cowman had a right to live, and he dodged the question as if he was afraid he'd say something. "

He stopped abruptly and looked out over the country toward HiddenWater, while the Mexicans watched him furtively from beneath theirslouched hats. 

"Expecting some friends?" inquired Thomas, with a saturnine grin. 

Hardy shook his head. "No. I came out here alone, and I left my gun incamp. I haven't got a friend within forty miles, if that's what youmean. I suppose you've got your orders, Mr. Thomas, but I just want totalk this matter over with you. "

"All right, " said the sheepman, suddenly thawing out at the good news. "I don't have so much company as to make me refuse, even if it is awarm subject. But mebby you'd like a bite to eat before we git down tobusiness?" He waved a deprecating hand at the greasy canvas, and Hardyswung quickly down from his saddle. 

"Thanks. But don't let me keep you from your dinner. Here's where Ibreak even with Jim Swope for all that grub I cooked last Spring, " heremarked, as he filled his plate. "But if it was him that asked me, "he added, "I'd starve to death before I'd eat it. "

He sat on his heels by the canvas, with the boss sheepman on the otherside, and the Mexicans who had been so cocky took their plates andretired like Apaches to the edge of the brush, where they would notobtrude upon their betters. 

"They say it's bad for the digestion, " observed Hardy, after the firstsilence, "to talk about things that make you mad; so if you don'tmind, Mr. Thomas, we'll forget about Jim Swope. What kind of a countryis it up there in Apache County, where you keep your sheep allSummer?"

"A fine country, " rejoined Thomas, "and I wish to God I was back toit, " he added. 

"Why, what's the matter with this country? It looks pretty good tome. "

"Ye-es, " admitted the sheepman grudgingly, "it looks good enough, but--well, I lived up there a long time and I got to like it. I hadone of the nicest little ranches in the White Mountains; there wasgood huntin' and fishin' and--well, I felt like a white man upthere--never had no trouble, you understand--and I was makin' goodmoney, too. "

His voice, which before had been harsh and strident, softened down ashe dwelt upon the natural beauty of the mountains which had been hishome, but there was a tone of sadness in his talk which told Hardythat ultimately he had suffered some great misfortune there. Hisoccupation alone suggested that--for there are few white men workingas sheep-herders who lack a hard luck story, if any one will listen toit. But this Shep Thomas was still young and unbroken, with none ofthe black marks of dissipation upon his face, and his eyes were askeen and steady as any hunter's. He was indeed the very type offighter that Swope had sought, hardy and fearless, and at the sametime careful. As they sat together Hardy looked him over and was gladthat he had come out unarmed, yet though his host seemed a man of justand reasonable mind there was a set, dogged look in his eyes whichwarned the cowman not to interfere, but let him talk his fill. And theboss herder, poor lonely man, was carried away in spite of himself bythe temptation of a listener; after many days of strife and turmoil, cutting trails, standing off cowmen, cursing Mexicans, at last to meeta white man who would just sit silent and let him talk! His storieswere of hunting and fishing, of prospecting, and restless adventuresamong the Indians, and every time the conversation worked aroundtowards sheep he led it resolutely away. And for his part, never for amoment did Hardy try to crowd him, but let the talk lead where itwould, until of his own volition the sheepman told his story. 

"I suppose you wonder what I'm doing down here, " he said at last, "ifI was so stuck on the Concho country? Well, I bet you wouldn't guessin a thousand years--and you ought to be a pretty good guesser, too, "he added, with a gruff laugh. "Now, what do you think it was that putme on the bum?"

"Poker game?" queried Hardy politely. 

"Nope, " replied the sheepman, showing his teeth, "I'm winners onpoker. "

"You don't look like a drinking man. "

"Naw--nor it wasn't women, either. It's something unusual, I tell you. I stood and looked at it for ten years, and never turned a hair. Buthere, I've been holdin' out on you a little--I never told you what itwas I raised on my ranch. Well, it was sheep. "

"Sheep?" echoed Hardy, "did you keep 'em there all Winter?"

"W'y sure, man. There's lots of sheep in Apache County that was neverten miles from home. "

"Then why does Jim Swope bring his bands south every Fall? I hear heloses five per cent of them, at the least, coming and going. "

"Ah, you don't understand Jim as well as I do. I was tryin' to make alivin'; he's tryin' to git rich. He's doin' it, too. "

Once more the note of bitterness came into his voice, and Hardy sawthat the time had come. 

"How's that?" he inquired quietly, and the sheepman plunged into hisstory. 

"Well, it was this way. I kept a few thousand sheep up there in myvalley. In the Summer we went up the mountain, followin' the grass, and in the Winter we fed down below, where the ground was bare. Itnever got very cold, and my sheep was used to it, anyhow. The Navajosdon't move their sheep south, do they? Well, they're away north ofwhere I was. We jest give 'em a little shelter, and looked after 'em, and, as I says, I was doin' fine--up to last year. "

He paused again, with his secret on his lips, and once more Hardysupplied the helping word. 

"And what happened then?" he asked. 

"What happened then?" cried Thomas, his eyes burning. "Well, _you_ought to know--I was sheeped out. "

"Sheeped out? Why, how could that happen? You were a sheepmanyourself!"

The boss herder contemplated him with an amused and cynical smile. "You ask Jim Swope, " he suggested. 

For a minute Hardy sat staring at him, bewildered. "Well, " he said, "_I_ can't figure it out--maybe you wouldn't mind telling me how ithappened. "

"Why hell, man, " burst out the sheepman, "it's as plain as the nose onyour face--I didn't belong to the Association. All these big sheepmenthat drive north and south belong to the Sheepmen's ProtectiveAssociation, and they stand in with each other, but we little fellowsup in 'Pache County was nobody. It's about ten years ago now that theSwope outfit first came in through our country; and, bein' in thesheep business ourselves, we was always friendly, and never made notrouble, and naturally supposed that they'd respect our range. And sothey did, until I found one of Jim's herders in on my ranch lastSummer. 

"Well, I thought there was some misunderstandin', but when I told himand his _compadres_ to move it was a bad case of 'No savvy' from thestart; and while I was monkeyin' around with them a couple of morebands sneaked in behind, and first thing I knew my whole lower rangewas skinned clean. Well, sir, I worked over one of them _paisanos_until he was a total wreck, and I took a shot at another _hombre_, too--the one that couldn't savvy; but there was no use cavin' roundabout it--I was jest naturally sheeped out. 

"It looked like I was busted, but I wouldn't admit it, and while I wasstudyin' on the matter along comes Jim himself and offers me fivethousand dollars for my sheep. They was worth ten if they was worth acent, all fine and fat; but my winter feed was gone and of course Iwas up against it. I see somethin' would have to be done, and dam'quick, too; so I chased down to St. John and tried to git a higherbid. But these sheepmen stand in with each other on a proposition likethat, and I couldn't git nawthin'. 

"'All right, ' I says to Jim, 'take 'em, and be dam'ed to you. '

"'The price has gone down, ' says Jim. 'I'll give you four thousand. '

"'_What!_' I says. 

"'Three thousand, ' says Jim. 

"'You'll give me _five_ thousand, ' says I, crowdin' my gun against hisshort ribs, 'or I'll let the light in on you, ' and after that Jim andme understood each other perfectly. In fact, we got stuck on eachother. Yes, sir, after I got over bein' excited and could listen toreason, he put it to me straight--and he was right. 

"'What's the use of bein' the yaller dog?' he says. 'You can't buckthe whole Association. But we've got room for you, ' he says, 'so giton and ride. ' And here I am, by Joe, leadin' the procession. "

The sheepman paused and gazed at the band of sheep as they stood in asolid mass, their heads tucked under each other's bellies to escapethe sun. 

"Some of them sheep used to be mine, " he observed, and laughed slyly. "That's the only thing between me and the boss. He's begged andimplored, and cursed and said his prayers, tryin' to git me interestedin the sheep business again; but like the pore, dam' fool I am I keepthat five thousand dollars in the bank. " His shoulders heaved for amoment with silent laughter, and then his face turned grave. 

"Well, Mr. Hardy, " he said, "business is business, and I've got to bemovin' along pretty soon. I believe you said you'd like to talkmatters over for a minute. "

"Yes, " answered Hardy promptly, "I'd like to make arrangements to haveyou turn out through that pass yonder and leave us a little feed fornext Winter. "

The sheepman cocked his head to one side and shut one eye knowingly. 

"Oh, you would, would you? And what word shall I take back to theboss, then?"

"I expect I'll see him before you do, " said Hardy, "but if you getahead of me you can just say that I asked you to move, and so youfollowed out your orders. "

"Yes, " responded Thomas, smiling satirically, "that'd be lovely. Buthow long since I've been takin' orders off of you?"

"Oh, I'm not trying to give you any orders, " protested Hardy. "Thosecome straight from Jim Swope. "

"How's that?" inquired the sheepman, with sudden interest. 

"Why, don't you remember what he said when he introduced me to you, down in Moroni? 'This is Mr. Hardy, ' he said, 'a white cowman. If youhave to go across his range, go quick, and tell your men the same. 'You may have forgotten, but it made a great impression on me. Andthen, to show there was no mistake about it, he told me if I found anyof his sheep on my range to order them off, and you would see thatthey went. Isn't that straight?"

He leaned over and looked the sheepman in the eye but Thomas met hisglance with a sardonic smile. "Sure, it's right. But I've receivedother orders since then. You know Jim claims to be religious--he's oneof the elders in the church down there--and he likes to keep his wordgood. After you was gone he come around to me and said: 'That's allright, Shep, about what I said to that cowman, but there's one thing Iwant you always to remember--feed my sheep!' Well, them's my orders. "

"Well, " commented Hardy, "that may be good Scripture, but what aboutmy cows? There's plenty of feed out on The Rolls for Jim's sheep, butmy cows have got to drink. We cowmen have been sheeped out of all thelower country down there, and here we are, crowded clear up againstthe rocks. You've stolen a march on us and of course you're entitledto some feed, but give us a chance. You've been sheeped out yourself, and you know what it feels like. Now all I ask of you is that you turnout through this pass and go down onto The Rolls. If you'll do that Ican turn all the rest of the sheep and keep my cows from starving, butif you go through me they'll all go through me, and I'm done for. Idon't make any threats and I can't offer any inducements, but I justask you, as a white man, to go around. "

As he ended his appeal he stood with his hands thrown out, and thesheepman looked at him, smiling curiously. 

"Well, " he said, at last, "you're a new kind of cowman on me, pardner, but I'll go you, if Jim throws a fit. "

He advanced, and held out his hand, and Hardy took it. 

"If all sheepmen were like you, " he said, "life would be worth livingin these parts. " And so, in a friendship unparalleled in the historyof the Four Peaks country, a sheepman and a cowman parted inamity--and the sheep went around. 

CHAPTER XI

JUMPED

Winter, the wonted season of torrential rains, six weeks' grass, andbudding flowers, when the desert is green and the sky washed clean andblue, followed close in the wake of the sheep, which went driftingpast Hidden Water like an army without banners. But alas for HiddenWater and the army of sheep!--in this barren Winter the torrentialrains did not fall, the grass did not sprout, and the flowers did notbloom. A bleak north wind came down from the mountains, cold and dryand crackling with electricity, and when it had blown its stint itdied down in a freezing, dusty silence. 

Then the mighty south--the rain--wind that blows up out of Papaguería, rose up, big with promise, and whirled its dust clouds a thousand feethigh against the horizon. But, after much labor, the keen, steely, north wind rushed suddenly down upon the black clouds, from whoseedges the first spatter of rain had already spilled, and swept themfrom the horizon, howling mournfully the while and wrestling with thegaunt trees at night. In shaded places the icicles from slow-seepingwaters clung for days unmelted, and the migrant ducks, down from theArctic, rose up from the half-frozen sloughs and winged silently awayto the far south. Yet through it all the Dos S cattle came outunscathed, feeding on what dry grass and browse the sheep had left onBronco Mesa; and in the Spring, when all hope seemed past, it rained. 

Only those who have been through a drought know what music there ishidden in rain. It puts a wild joy into the heart of every creature, the birds sing, the rabbits leap and caper, and all the cattle andwild horses take to roaming and wandering out of pure excess ofspirits. It was early in March when the first showers came, and assoon as the new feed was up Creede began his preparations for thespring _rodéo_. The Winter had been a hard one, and not without itsworries. In an interview, which tended on both sides to become heatedand personal, Jim Swope had denounced Hardy for misrepresenting hisorders to his _mayordomo_, and had stated in no uncertain terms hisfirm intention of breaking even in the Spring, if there was a blade ofgrass left on the upper range. 

The season had been a bad one for his sheep, windy and cold, with sandstorms which buried the desert in a pall and drove many flocks to thehills; and as the feed became shorter and shorter vagrant bands beganto drift in along the Salagua. In the battle for the range thatfollowed herders and punchers greeted each other with angry snarlswhich grew more wolfish every day, and old Pablo Moreno, shaking hiswhite head over their quarrels, uttered gloomy prophecies of greaterevils to come. Sheep would die, he said, cattle would die--it was onlya question now of how many, and of which. It was a coming _año seco_;nay, the whole country was drying up. In Hermosillo, so they said, thewomen stood by the public well all night, waiting to fill their_ollas_; not for nine years had the rains fallen there, and now thedrought was spreading north. Arizona, California, Nevada, all weredoomed, yet _paciencia_, perhaps--and then came the rain. Yes, it wasa good rain but--and then it rained again. _Que bueno_, who would notbe made a liar for rain? But _cuidado_--behold, the ground was stilldry; it drank up the water as it fell and was thirsty again; the riverfell lower and lower and the water was clear; a bad sign, a very badsign!

But if the young should wait upon the advice of the old there would beno more miracles. Creede and Hardy passed up the weather, strapped ontheir six-shooters, and began to patrol the range, "talking reason" tothe stray Mexicans who thought that, because their sheep were gettingpoor, they ought to move them to better feed. 

The time for friendship and diplomacy was past, as Hardy politelyinformed his employer by letter--after which he told Rafael to keepaway from the post office and not bring him any more _corréo_, if hevalued his job. But though he had made his note to Judge Ware brief, it had said too much. He had suggested that if the judge did not likehis change of policy he had better come down and see the actualconditions for himself--and the old judge came. 

It was midafternoon of that fateful day when Creede and Hardy, ridingin from up the river, saw Rafael's wagon in front of the house. Thiswas not surprising in itself as he had been down to Bender forround-up supplies, but as the two partners approached the house Creedesuddenly grabbed Hardy's rein and drew back as if he were on top of arattlesnake. 

"For God's sake, " he said, "what's that? Listen!"

He jerked a thumb toward the house, and in the tense silence Hardycould clearly discern the sound of women's voices. Now you could ridethe Four Peaks country far and wide and never hear the music of suchvoices, never see calico on the line, or a lace curtain across thewindow. There were no women in that godless land, not since the WidowWinship took Sallie and Susie and left precipitately for St. Louis, none save the Señora Moreno and certain strapping Apache squaws whowore buckskin _téwas_ and carried butcher knives in their belts. Eventhe heart of Rufus Hardy went pit-a-pat and stopped, at the sound ofthat happy chatter. 

"They're rustlin' the whole dam' house, " exclaimed Creede, all nervesand excitement. "Didn't you hear that pan go 'bamp'? Say, I believethey're cleanin' house! Rufe, " he whispered, "I bet you money we'rejumped!"

The possibility of having their ranch preëmpted during their absencehad been spoken of in a general way, since Jim Swope had gone on thewarpath, but in his secret soul Rufus Hardy had a presentiment whichmade claim-jumping look tame. There was a chastened gayety in thevoices, a silvery ripple in the laughter, which told him what Creedewith all his cunning could never guess; they were voices from anotherworld, a world where Hardy had had trouble and sorrow enough, andwhich he had left forever. There was soldier blood in his veins and intwo eventful years he had never weakened; but the suddenness of thisassault stampeded him. 

"You better go first, Jeff, " he said, turning his horse away, "theymight--"

But Creede was quick to intercept him. 

"None o' that, now, pardner, " he said, catching his rein. "You'reparlor-broke--go on ahead!"

There was a wild, uneasy stare in his eye, which nevertheless meantbusiness, and Hardy accepted the rebuke meekly. Perhaps his consciencewas already beginning to get action for the subterfuge and deceitwhich he had practised during their year together. He sat still for amoment, listening to the voices and smiling strangely. 

"All right, brother, " he said, in his old quiet way, and then, whirling Chapuli about, he galloped up to the house, sitting him asstraight and resolute as any soldier. But Creede jogged along moreslowly, tucking in his shirt, patting down his hair, and wiping thesweat from his brow. 

At the thud of hoofs a woman's face appeared at the doorway--a facesweet and innocent, with a broad brow from which the fair hair wasbrushed evenly back, and eyes which looked wonderingly out at theworld through polished glasses. It was Lucy Ware, and when Hardy sawher he leaped lightly from his horse and advanced with hat inhand--smiling, yet looking beyond her. 

"I'm so glad to see you, Miss Lucy, " he said, as he took her hand, "and if we had only known you were coming--"

"Why, Rufus Hardy!" exclaimed the young lady, "do you mean to say younever received _any_ of my letters?"

At this Creede stared, and in that self-same moment Hardy realized howthe low-down strategy which he had perpetrated upon his employer hadfallen upon his own head a thousandfold. But before he could stammerhis apologies, Kitty Bonnair stood before him--the same Kitty, andsmiling as he had often seen her in his dreams. 

She was attired in a stunning outing suit of officer's cloth, tailoredfor service, yet bringing out the graceful lines of her figure; and asHardy mumbled out his greetings the eyes of Jefferson Creede, so longdenied of womankind, dwelt eagerly upon her beauty. Her dainty feet, encased in tan high boots, held him in rapt astonishment; her handsfascinated him with their movements like the subtle turns of amesmerist; and the witchery of her supple body, the mischief in thedark eyes, and the teasing sweetness of her voice smote him to theheart before he was so much as noticed. 

No less absolute, for all his strivings, was the conquest of RufusHardy, the frozen bulwarks of whose heart burst suddenly and went outlike spring ice in the radiance of her first smile. 

"I knew you'd be glad to see me, too, " she said, holding out her handto him; and forgetful of all his bitterness he grasped it warmly. Then, tardily conscious of his duty, he turned to Jeff. 

"Miss Kitty, " he said, "this is my friend, Jefferson Creede--MissBonnair. "

"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Creede, " said Kitty, bestowing her handupon the embarrassed cowboy. "Of course you know Miss Ware!"

"Howdy do, Miss, " responded Creede, fumbling for his hat, and as MissLucy took his hand the man who had put the fear of God into the heartsof so many sheep-herders became dumb and tongue-tied with bashfulness. There was not a man in the Four Peaks country that could best him, inanger or in jest, when it called for the ready word; but Kitty Bonnairhad so stolen his wits that he could only stand and sweat like atrick-broken horse. As for Hardy he saw rainbows and his heart hadgone out of business, but still he was "parlor-broke. "

"I am afraid you didn't find the house very orderly, " he observed, asCreede backed off and the conversation sagged; and the two girlsglanced at each other guiltily. "Of course you're just as welcome, " headded hastily, "and I suppose you couldn't help cleaning house a bit;but you gave us both a bad scare, all the same. Didn't you notice howpale we looked?" he asked, to mask his embarrassment. "But you wereright, Jeff, " he continued enigmatically. 

"Does he always defer to you that way, Mr. Creede?" inquired KittyBonnair, with an engaging smile. "_We_ used to find him ratherperverse. " She glanced roguishly at Hardy as she gave this veiledrebuke. "But what was it that you were right about?--I'm just dying toask you questions!"

She confessed this with a naive frankness which quite won the bigcowboy's heart, and, his nerve coming back, he grinned broadly at hisformer suspicions. 

"Well, " he said, "I might as well come through with it--I told him Ibet we'd been jumped. "

"Jumped?" repeated Miss Kitty, mystified. "Oh, is that one of yourcowboy words? Tell me what it means!"

"W'y, it means, " drawled Creede, "that two young fellers like me andRufe goes out to ride the range and when we come back some otheroutfit has moved into our happy home and we're orphans. We've beenhavin' a little trouble with the sheep lately, and when I heard thempots and kittles rattlin' around in here I thought for sure someMormon sheepman had got the jump on us and located the ranch. "

"And what would you have done if he had?" continued Kitty eagerly. "Would you have shot him with that big pistol?" She pointed to theheavy Colt's which Creede had slung on his hip. 

But this was getting too romantic and Western, even for Jeff. "No, ma'am, " he said modestly. "We just carry that to balance us in thesaddle. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Kitty, disappointed, "and didn't you ever shoot_anybody_?"

Creede blushed for her, in spite of himself. "Well, " he repliedevasively, "I don't know how it would be up where you come from, butthat's kind of a leadin' question, ain't it?"

"Oh, you have, then!" exclaimed Kitty Bonnair ecstatically. "Oh, I'mso glad to see a really, truly cowboy!" She paused, and gazed up athim soulfully. "Won't you let me have it for a minute?" she pleaded, and with a sheepish grin Creede handed over his gun. 

But if there had been another cowboy within a mile he would havehesitated, infatuated as he was. Every land has its symbolism andthough the language of flowers has not struck root in the cowcountry--nor yet the amorous Mexican system of "playing the bear"--togive up one's pistol to a lady is the sign and token of surrender. However, though it brought the sweat to his brow, the byplay waspulled off unnoticed, Hardy and Lucy Ware being likewise deep inconfidences. 

"How strange you look, Rufus!" exclaimed Lucy, as Kitty Bonnair beganher assault upon the happiness of Jefferson Creede. "What have youbeen doing to yourself in these two years?"

"Why, nothing, " protested Hardy, a little wan from his encounter withKitty. "Perhaps you have forgotten how I used to look--our hair getspretty long up here, " he added apologetically, "but--"

"No, " said Lucy firmly. "It isn't a matter of hair, although I willadmit I hardly knew you. It's in your eyes; and you have some stern, hard lines about your mouth, too. Father says you spend all your timetrying to keep the sheep out--and he's very much displeased with youfor disobeying his directions, too. He gave up some important businessto come down here and see you, and I hope he scolds you well. Have youbeen writing any lately?" she asked accusingly. 

"No!" answered Hardy absently, "we don't have to _fight_ them--"

"But, Rufus, " protested Lucy Ware, laying her hand on his arm, "dotake your mind from those dreadful sheep. I asked you if you have beendoing any _writing_ lately--you promised to send me some poems, don'tyou remember? And I haven't received a thing!"

"Oh!" said Hardy, blushing at his mistake. "Well, I acknowledge thatI haven't done right--and you have been very kind, too, MissLucy, " he added gently. "But somehow I never finish anything downhere--and the sheep have been pretty bad lately. I have to do my workfirst, you know. I'll tell you, though, " he said, lowering his voiceconfidentially, "if I can see you when no one is around I'll give youwhat little I've written--at least, some of the best. A poet athis worst, you know, " he added, smiling, "is the poorest man in theworld. He's like a woman who tells everything--no one could respecthim. But if we can take our finer moods, and kind of sublimate them, you know, well--every man is a poet some time. "

He hesitated, ended lamely, and fell suddenly into a settled silence. The hard lines about his lips deepened; his eyes, cast to the ground, glowed dully; and in every feature Lucy read the despair that wasgnawing at his heart. And with it there was something more--a tacitrebuke to her for having brought Kitty there to meet him. 

"We have missed you very much, " she began softly, as if reading histhoughts, "and your letters were so interesting! Ever since I showedKitty the first one she has been crazy to come down here. Yes, she hasbeen reading 'The Virginian' and O. Henry and 'Wolfville' until it issimply awful to hear her talk. And ride--she has been taking lessonsfor a year! Her saddle is out there now in the wagon, and if she couldhave caught one of those wild horses out in that inclosed field Ireally believe she would have mounted him and taken to the hills likean Indian. I had to come down to take care of father, you know, and--aren't you glad to see us, Rufus?"

She gazed up at him anxiously, and her eyes became misty as she spoke;but Hardy was far away and he did not see. 

"Yes, " he said absently, "but--I shall be very busy. Oh, where is yourfather?"

A light went suddenly from Lucy's eyes and her lips quivered, but hervoice was as steady as ever. 

"He has gone down to the river, " she said patiently. "Would you liketo see him?"

"Yes, " he replied, still impersonally; and with his head down, hewalked out to where Chapuli was standing. Then, as if some memory ofher voice had come to him, he dropped the bridle lash and stepped backquickly into the house. 

"You mustn't notice my rudeness, Miss Lucy, " he began abjectly. "Ofcourse I am glad to see you; but I am a little confused, and--well, you understand. " He smiled wanly as he spoke, and held out his hand. "Is it all right?" he asked. "Good-bye, then. " And as he steppedquietly out the light came back into Lucy's eyes. 

"I am going to hunt up the judge, " he said, as he swung up on hishorse; and, despite the protests of Jeff and Kitty Bonnair, who werestill deep in an animated conversation, he rode off down the river. 

It was not exactly like a draught of Nepenthe to go out and face therighteous indignation of Judge Ware, but Hardy's brain was in such awhirl that he welcomed the chance to escape. Never for a moment had hecontemplated the idea of Kitty's coming to him, or of his seeing heragain until his heart was whole. He had felt safe and secure foreverwithin the walled valley of Hidden Water--but now from a cloudless skythe lightning had fallen and blinded him. Before he could raise a handor even turn and flee she had come upon him and exacted hisforgiveness. Nay, more--she had won back his love and enslaved him asbefore. Could it mean--what else could it mean? Nothing but that sheloved him; or if not love, then she cared for him above the others. And Kitty was proud, too! Those who became her slaves must respect herwhims; she would acknowledge no fault and brook no opposition;whatever she did was right. Yes, it had always been the same with her:the Queen could do no wrong--yet now she had put aside her regalprerogatives and come to him!

He hugged the thought to his bosom like a man infatuated, and then achill misgiving came upon him. Perhaps after all it was but another ofthose childish whims which made her seem so lovable--always eager, always active, always striving for the forbidden and unusual, yet sodear with her laughing eyes and dancing feet that all the world gaveway before her. He bowed his head in thought, following the judge'stracks mechanically as he cantered down the trail, and when he came tothe hill above the whirlpool and looked down at the empty landscape hewas still wrestling with his pride. Never in the two years of hisexile had he so much as mentioned her name to any one; it was a thingtoo sacred for confidences, this love which had changed the deepcurrent of his life, a secret for his own soul and God--and yet, LucyWare might help him!

And where in all the world would he find a more faithful friend thanLucy Ware? A secret shared with her would be as safe as if stilllocked in his own breast--and Lucy could understand. Perhaps sheunderstood already; perhaps--his heart stopped, and pounded againsthis side--perhaps Kitty had told Lucy her story already and asked herto intercede! He dwelt upon the thought again as he gazed dumbly aboutfor his employer; and then suddenly the outer world--the plain, rough, rocks-and-cactus world that he had lived in before they came--flashedup before him in all its uncompromising clearness; the judge wasnowhere in sight!

A sudden memory of Creede's saying that he could lose his boss anytime within half a mile of camp startled Hardy out of his dreams andhe rode swiftly forward upon the trail. At the foot of the hill thetracks of Judge Ware's broad shoes with their nice new hob-nails stoodout like a bas-relief, pointing up the river. Not to take any chances, Hardy followed them slavishly through the fine sand until they turnedabruptly up onto a ridge which broke off at the edge of the riverbottom. Along the summit of this they showed again, plainly, headingnorth; then as the ravine swung to the west they scrambled across itand began to zigzag, working off to the east where Black Butte loomedup above the maze of brushy ridges like a guiding sentinel. At firstHardy only smiled at the circuitous and aimless trail which he wasfollowing, expecting to encounter the judge at every turn; but as thetracks led steadily on he suddenly put spurs to his horse and plungedrecklessly up and down the sides of the brushy hogbacks in a desperatepursuit, for the sun was sinking low. The trail grew fresher andfresher now; dark spots where drops of sweat had fallen showed in thedry sand of the washes; and at last, half an hour before sundown, Hardy caught sight of his wandering employer, zealously ascending aparticularly rocky butte. 

"Hello there, Judge!" he called, and then, as Judge Ware whirledabout, he inquired, with well-feigned surprise: "Where'd you drop downfrom?"

This was to let the old gentleman down easy--lost people having a wayof waxing indignant at their rescuers--and the judge was not slow totake advantage of it. 

"Why, howdy do, Rufus!" he exclaimed, sinking down upon a rock. "I wasjust taking a little short cut to camp. My, my, but this is a roughcountry. Out looking for cattle?"

"Well--yes, " responded Hardy. "I was taking a little ride. But say, it's about my supper time. You better give up that short-cut idea andcome along home with me. "

"We-ell, " said the judge, reluctantly descending the butte, "I guess Iwill. How far is it?"

"About two miles, by trail. "

"Two miles!" exclaimed Judge Ware, aghast. "Why, it's just over thatlittle hill, there. Why don't you take a short cut?"

"The trail is the shortest cut I know, " replied Hardy, concealing asmile. "That's the way the cattle go, and they seem to know theirbusiness. How does the country look to you?"

But the old judge was not to be led aside by persiflage--he wasinterested in the matter of trails. 

"Cattle trails!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you do allyour travelling on these crooked cow paths? Why, it is a matter ofscientific observation that even on the open prairie a cow path losesnearly a quarter of its headway by constant winding in and out, merelyto avoid frail bushes and infinitesimal stones. Now if you and Jeffwould spend a little of your leisure in cutting trails, as they do inforestry, you would more than save yourselves the time and laborinvolved, I'm sure. "

"Yes?" said Hardy coldly. There was a subtle tone of fault-finding inhis employer's voice which already augured ill for their debate on thesheep question, and his nerves responded instinctively to the jab. Fate had not been so kind to him that day, that he was prepared totake very much from any man, and so he remained quiet and let thejudge go the whole length. 

"Why, yes, if you would stay about the ranch a little closer insteadof going off on these armed forays against sheep--now just forexample, how much would it cost to clear a passable trail over thatridge to the ranch?"

He pointed at the hill which in his misguided enthusiasm he had beenmounting, and Hardy's eyes glittered wickedly as he launched hisbarbed jest. 

"About a billion dollars, I guess, " he answered, after matureconsideration. 

"A billion dollars!" repeated the judge. "A billion dollars! Now here, Rufus, " he cried, choking with exasperation, "I am in earnest aboutthis matter! I don't altogether approve of the way you and Jeff havebeen conducting my affairs down here, anyway, and I intend to take ahand myself, if you don't mind. I may not know as much as you aboutthe minor details of the cattle business, but I have been looking intoforestry quite extensively, and I fail to see anything unreasonable inmy suggestion of a trail. How far is it, now, over that hill to theranch?"

"About twenty-five thousand miles, " replied Hardy blandly. 

"Twenty-five thousand! Why--"

"At least, so I am informed, " explained Hardy. "Geographers agree, Ibelieve, that that is the approximate distance around the world. Theranch is over here, you know. "

He pointed with one small, sinewy hand in a direction diametricallyopposite to the one his boss had indicated, and struck out down a cowtrail. It was a harsh blow to the old judge, and rankled in his bosomfor some time; but after making sure that his superintendent wascorrect he followed meekly behind him into camp. On the way, as anafterthought, he decided not to put down his foot in the matter of thesheep until he was quite sure of the material facts. 

They found Creede in the last throes of agony as he blundered throughthe motions of cooking supper. Half an hour of house-cleaning had donemore to disarrange his kitchen than the services of two charmingassistants could possibly repair. His Dutch oven was dropped into thewood box; his bread pan had been used to soak dirty dishes in; thewater bucket was empty, and they had thrown his grease swab into thefire. As for the dish-rag, after long and faithful service it had beenruthlessly destroyed, and he had to make another one out of a floursack. Add to this a hunger which had endured since early morning and aseries of rapid-fire questions, and you have the true recipe for badbread, at least. 

Kitty Bonnair had taken a course in sanitation and domestic science inher college days, since which time the world had been full of microbesand every unpleasant bacillus, of which she discoursed at some length. But Jefferson Creede held steadily to his fixed ideas, and in the endhe turned out some baking-powder biscuits that would have won honorsin a cooking school. There was nothing else to cook, his kettle ofbeans having been unceremoniously dumped because the pot was black;but Kitty had the table spotlessly clean, there was an assortment ofpotted meats and picnic knicknacks in the middle of it, and Lucy hadfaithfully scoured the dishes; so supper was served with frills. 

If the ladies had taken hold a little strong in the first spasms ofhouse-cleaning, Jeff and Rufus were far too polite to mention it; andwhile the dishes were being washed they quietly gathered up theirbelongings, and moved them into the storeroom. Their beds beingalready spread beneath the _ramada_, it was not difficult to persuadethe girls to accept Hardy's room, which for a man's, was clean, andthe judge fell heir to Jeff's well-littered den. All being quicklyarranged and the beds made, Creede threw an armful of ironwood uponthe fire and they sat down to watch it burn. 

Three hours before, Hidden Water had been the hangout of twosheep-harrying barbarians, bushy-headed and short of speech; now itwas as bright and cheerful as any home and the barbarians were changedto lovers. Yet, as they basked in the warmth of the fireside there wasone absent from his accustomed place--a creature so fierce and shythat his wild spirit could never become reconciled to the change. Atthe first sound of women's voices little Tommy had dashed through hiscat-hole and fled to the bowlder pile at the foot of the cliff, fromwhose dank recesses he peered forth with blank and staring eyes. 

But now, as the strange voices grew quiet and night settled down overthe valley, he crept forth and skulked back to the house, sniffingabout the barred windows, peeking in through his hole in the door; andat last, drawing well away into the darkness, he raised his voice inan appealing cry for Jeff. 

As the first awful, raucous outburst broke the outer silence KittyBonnair jumped, and Lucy and her father turned pale. 

"What's that?" cried Kitty, in a hushed voice, "a mountain lion?"

"Not yet, " answered Creede enigmatically. "He will be though, if hegrows. Aw, say, that's just my cat. Here, pussy, pussy, pussy! D'yehear that, now? Sure, he knows me! Wait a minute and I'll try an'ketch 'im. "

He returned a few minutes later, with Tommy held firmly against hisbreast, blacker, wilder, and scrawnier than ever, but purring andworking his claws. 

"How's this for a mountain lion?" said Creede, stopping just insidethe door and soothing down his pet. "D'ye see that hook?" he inquired, holding up the end of Tommy's crooked tail and laughing at Kitty'sdismay. "He uses that to climb cliffs with. That's right--he's a newkind of cat. Sure, they used to be lots of 'em around here, but thecoyotes got all the rest. Tom is the only one left. Want to pet him?Well--whoa, pussy, --come up careful, then; he's never--ouch!"

At the first whisk of skirts, Tommy's yellow eyes turned green and hesank every available hook and claw into his master's arm; but whenKitty reached out a hand he exploded in a storm of spits and hissesand dashed out through the door. 

"Well, look at that, now, " said Creede, grinning and rubbing his arm. "D'ye know what's the matter with him? You're the first woman he eversaw in his life. W'y, sure! They ain't no women around here. I got himoff a cowman over on the Verde. He had a whole litter of 'em--used topinch Tom's tail to make him fight--so when I come away I jest quietlyslipped Mr. Tommy into my shaps. "

"Oh, the poor little thing, " said Kitty; and then she added, puckeringup her lips, "but I don't like cats. "

"Oh, I do!" exclaimed Lucy Ware quickly, as Creede's face changed, andfor a moment the big cowboy stood looking at them gravely. 

"That's good, " he said, smiling approvingly at Lucy; and then, turningto Kitty Bonnair, he said: "You want to learn, then. "

But Kitty was not amenable to the suggestion. 

"No!" she cried, stamping her foot. "I don't! They're such stealthy, treacherous creatures--and they never have any affection for people. "

"Ump-um!" denied Creede, shaking his head slowly. "You don't knowcats--jest think you do, maybe. W'y, Tommy was the only friend I hadhere for two years. D'ye think he could fool me all that time? Rufehere will tell you how he follows after me for miles--and cryin', too--when the coyotes might git 'im anytime. And he sleeps with meevery night, " he added, lowering his voice. 

"Well, you can have him, " said Kitty lightly. "Do they have any realmountain lions here?"

"Huh?" inquired Creede, still big-eyed with his emotions. "Oh, yes;Bill Johnson over in Hell's Hip Pocket makes a business of huntin''em. Twenty dollars bounty, you know. "

"Oh, oh!" cried Kitty. "Will he take me with him? Tell me all aboutit!"

Jefferson Creede moved over toward the door with a far-away look inhis eyes. 

"That's all, " he said indifferently. "He runs 'em with hounds. Well, I'll have to bid you good-night. "

He ducked his head, and stepped majestically out the door; and Hardy, who was listening, could hear him softly calling to his cat. 

"Oh, Rufus!" cried Kitty appealingly, as he rose to follow, "_do_ stopand tell me about Bill Johnson, and, yes--Hell's Hip Pocket!"

"Why, Kitty!" exclaimed Lucy Ware innocently, and while they werediscussing the morals of geographical swearing Hardy made his bow, andpassed out into the night. 

The bitter-sweet of love was upon him again, making the stars morebeautiful, the night more mysterious and dreamy; but as he crept intohis blankets he sighed. In the adjoining cot he could hear Jeffstripping slivers from a length of jerked beef, and Tommy mewing forhis share. 

"Want some jerky, Rufe?" asked Creede, and then, commenting upon theirlate supper, he remarked:

"A picnic dinner is all right for canary birds, but it takes goodhard grub to feed a man. I'm goin' to start the _rodér_ camp in themornin' and cook me up some beans. " He lay for a while in silence, industriously feeding himself on the dry meat, and gazing at the sky. 

"Say, Rufe, " he said, at last, "ain't you been holdin' out on me alittle?"

"Um-huh, " assented Hardy. 

"Been gettin' letters from Miss Lucy all the time, eh?"

"Sure. "

"Well, " remarked Creede, "you're a hell of a feller! But I reckon Ilearned somethin', " he added philosophically, "and when I wantsomebody to tell my troubles to, I'll know where to go. Say, she's allright, ain't she?"

"Yeah. "

"Who're you talkin' about?"

"Who're you?"

"Oh, you know, all right, all right--but, say!"

"Well?"

"It's a pity she don't like cats. "

CHAPTER XII

THE GARDEN IN THE DESERT

The sun was well up over the cañon rim when the tired visitors awokefrom their dreams. Kitty Bonnair was the first to open her eyes andpeep forth upon the fairy world which promised so much of mystery anddelight. The iron bars of their window, deep set in the adobe walls, suggested the dungeon of some strong prison where Spanish maidenslanguished for sight of their lovers; a rifle in the corner, overlooked in the hurried moving, spoke eloquently of the armedbrutality of the times; the hewn logs which supported the lintelscompleted the picture of primitive life; and a soft breeze, breathingin through the unglazed sills, whispered of dark cañons and the wild, free out-of-doors. 

As she lay there drinking it all in a murmur of voices came to herears; and, peering out, she saw Creede and Rufus Hardy squatting by afire out by the giant mesquite tree which stood near the bank of thecreek. Creede was stirring the contents of a frying-pan with a hugeiron spoon, and Rufus was cooking strips of meat on a stick which heturned above a bed of coals. There was no sign of hurry or anxietyabout their preparations; they seemed to be conversing amiably ofother things. Presently Hardy picked up a hooked stick, lifted thecover from the Dutch oven, and dumped a pile of white biscuits upon agreasy cloth. Then, still deep in their talk, they filled their platesfrom the fry-pan, helped themselves to meat, wrapped the rest of thebread in the cloth, and sat comfortably back on their heels, eatingwith their fingers and knives. 

It was all very simple and natural, but somehow she had never thoughtof men in that light before. They were so free, so untrammelled andself-sufficient; yes, and so barbarous, too. Rufus Hardy, the poet, she had known--quiet, soft-spoken, gentle, with dreamy eyes and adoglike eagerness to please--but, lo! here was another Rufus, stillgentle, but with a stern look in his eyes which left her almostafraid--and those two lost years lay between. How he must have changedin all that time! The early morning was Kitty's time for meditationand good resolutions, and she resolved then and there to be nice toRufus, for he was a man and could not understand. 

As the sound of voices came from the house Jefferson Creede rose upfrom his place and stalked across the open, rolling and swaying in hishigh-heeled boots like a huge, woolly bear. 

"Well, Judge, " he said, after throwing a mountain of wood on the fireas a preliminary to cooking breakfast for his guests, "I suppose nowyou're here you'd like to ride around a little and take stock of whatyou've got. The boys will begin comin' in for the _rodér_ to-day, andafter to-morrow I'll be pretty busy; but if you say so I'll jest ketchup a gentle horse, and show you the upper range before the workbegins. "

"Oh, won't you take me, too?" cried Kitty, skipping in eagerly. "I'vegot the nicest saddle--and I bet I can ride any horse you've got. "

She assumed a cowboy-like strut as she made this assertion, shakingher head in a bronco gesture which dashed the dark hair from her eyesand made her look like an unbroken thoroughbred. Never in all hislife, even in the magazine pictures of stage beauties which form aconspicuous mural decoration in those parts, had Creede seen a womanhalf so charming, but even in his love blindness he was modest. 

"We'll have to leave that to the judge, " he said deferentially, "butthey's horses for everybody. " He glanced inquiringly at Lucy, who wasbusily unpacking her sketching kit; but she only smiled, and shook herhead. 

"The home is going to be my sphere for some time, " she remarked, glancing about at the half-cleaned room, "and then, " she added, withdecision, "I'm going to make some of the loveliest water colors in theworld. I think that big giant cactus standing on that red-and-graycliff over there is simply wonderful. "

"Um, pretty good, " observed Creede judicially. "But you jest ought tosee 'em in the gorge where Hidden Water comes out! Are ye goin' along, Rufe?" he inquired, bending his eyes upon Hardy with a knowingtwinkle. "No? Well, _you_ can show her where it is! Didn't you neverhear why they call this Hidden Water?" he asked, gazing benignly uponthe young ladies. "Well, listen. 

"They's a big spring of water right up here, not half a mile. It's anold landmark--the Mexicans call it Agua Escondida--but I bet neitherone of you can find it and I'll take you right by the gulch where itcomes out. They can't nobody find it, unless they're wise enough tofollow cow tracks--and of course, we don't expect that of strangers. But if you ever git lost and you're within ten miles of home jest takethe first cow trail you see and follow it downhill and you'll go intoone end or the other of Hidden Water cañon. Sure, it's what you mightcall the Hello-Central of the whole Four Peaks country, with cow pathsinstead of wires. The only thing lackin' is the girls, to talk back, and call you down for your ungentlemanly language, and--well, thiscountry is comin' up every day!"

He grinned broadly, wiping his floury hands on his overalls indefiance of Miss Kitty's most rudimentary principles; and yet evenshe, for all her hygiene, was compelled to laugh. There was somethingabout Creede that invited confidence and feminine badgering, he was solike a big, good-natured boy. The entire meal was enlivened by herefforts, in the person of a hello girl, to expurgate his language, andshe ended by trying to get him to swear--politely. 

But in this the noble cowboy was inexorable. "No, ma'am, " he said, with an excess of moral conviction. "I never swear except forcause--and then I always regret it. But if you want to git some of thereal thing to put in your phonygraft jest come down to the pastureto-morrow when the boys are breakin' horses. Your hair's kind of wavy, I notice, but it will put crimps in it to hear Bill Lightfoot or someof them Sunflower stiffs when they git bucked onto a rock pile. Andsay, if you call yourself a rider I can give you a snake for to-day. "

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Creede, " answered Miss Kitty, bowing low as sheleft the table. "Its tail, if it chanced to be a rattler, would bemost acceptable, I am sure, and I might make a belt out of its skin. But for riding purposes I prefer a real, gentle little horse. Nowhurry up, and I'll be dressed in half an hour. "

Ten minutes later Creede rode up to the house, leading a sober grayfor the judge, but for Kitty Bonnair he had the prettiest littlecalico-horse in the bunch, a pony painted up with red and yellow andwhite until he looked like a three-color chromo. Even his eye wasvariegated, being of a mild, pet-rabbit blue, with a white circlearound the orbit; and his name, of course, was Pinto. To be sure, hisface was a little dished in and he showed other signs of his scrubIndian blood, but after Creede had cinched on the new stamped-leathersaddle and adjusted the ornate hackamore and martingale, Pinto was thesportiest-looking horse outside of a Wild West show. 

There was a long wait then, while Diana completed her preparationsfor the hunt; but when Kitty Bonnair, fully apparelled, finallystepped through the door Creede reeled in the saddle, and even RufusHardy gasped. There was nothing immodest about her garb--in fact, itwas very correct and proper--but not since the Winship girls rodeforth in overalls had Hidden Water seen its like. Looking very trimand boyish in her khaki riding breeches, Kitty strode forthunabashed, rejoicing in her freedom. A little scream of delightescaped her as she caught sight of the calico-pony; she patted hisnose a moment, inquired his name, and then, scorning all assistance, swung lightly up into the saddle. No prettier picture had ever beenoffered to the eye; so young, so supple and strong, with such awealth of dark, wavy hair, and, withal, so modest and honestly happy. But, somehow, Jefferson Creede took the lead and rode with hiseyes cast down, lest they should be dazzled by the vision. Besides, Jeff had been raised old-fashioned, and Golden Gate Park is a long, long ways, chronologically, from Hidden Water. 

As the procession passed away up the cañon, with Creede in soberconverse with the judge and Kitty scampering about like an Indian onher pinto horse, Hardy and Lucy Ware glanced at each other, andlaughed. 

"Did you ever see any one like her?" exclaimed Lucy, and Hardyadmitted with a sigh that he never had. 

"And I am afraid, " observed Miss Lucy frankly, "you were notaltogether pleased to see her--at first. But really, Rufus, what canany one hope to do with Kitty? When she has set her heart on anythingshe _will have it_, and from the very moment she read your firstletter she was determined to come down here. Of course father thinkshe came down to look into this matter of the sheep, and _I_ think thatI came down to look after him, but in reality I have no doubt we areboth here because Kitty Bonnair so wills it. "

"Very likely, " replied Hardy, with a doubtful smile. "But since youare in her counsels perhaps you can tell what her intentions aretoward me. I used to be one of her gentlemen-in-waiting, you know, andthis visit looks rather ominous for me. "

"Well, just exactly what are you talking about, Rufus?"

"I guess you know, all right, " replied Hardy. "Have I got to ride abucking bronco, or kill a sheep-herder or two--or is it just anothercase of 'move on'?"

He paused and smiled bitterly to himself, but Lucy was not in a moodto humor him in his misanthropy. 

"I must confess, " she said, "that you may be called upon to do afew chivalrous feats of horsemanship, but as for the sheep-herderpart of it, I hope you will try to please me by leaving them alone. Itworries me, Rufus, " she continued soberly, "to see you becoming sostrong-willed and silent. There was a whole year, when none of usheard a word from you--and then it was quite by accident. Andfather thinks you stopped writing to him with the deliberate intentionof driving the sheep away by violence. "

"Well, I'm glad he understands so well, " replied Hardy naively. "Ofcourse I wouldn't embarrass him by asking for orders, but--"

"Oh, Rufus!" exclaimed Miss Lucy impatiently, "do try to be naturalagain and take your mind off those sheep. Do you know what I amthinking of doing?" she demanded seriously. "I am thinking of askingfather to give me this ranch--he said he would if I wanted it--andthen I'll discharge you! You shall not be such a brutal, ugly man! Butcome, now, I want you to help clear the table, and then we will go upto Hidden Water and read your poems. But tell me, have you had anytrouble with the sheepmen?"

"Why, no!" answered Hardy innocently. "What made you ask?"

"Well, you wrote father you expected trouble--and--and you had thatbig, long pistol when you came in yesterday. Now you can't denythat!"

"I'm afraid you've had some Western ideas implanted in your bosom byKitty, Miss Lucy, " protested Hardy. "We never shoot each other downhere. I carry that pistol for the moral effect--and it's necessary, too, to protect these sheepmen against their own baser natures. Yousee they're all armed, and if I should ride into their camp without agun and ask them to move they might be tempted to do something overt. But as it is now, when Jeff and I begin to talk reason with them theyunderstand. No, _we're_ all right; it's the sheep-herders that haveall the trouble. "

"Rufus Hardy, " cried Miss Lucy indignantly, "if you mention thosesheep again until you are asked about them, I'll have you attended to. Do you realize how far I have come to see your poems and hear you talkthe way you used to talk? And then to hear you go on in this way! Ithought at first that Mr. Creede was a nice man, but I am beginning tochange my opinion of him. But you have just got to be nice to me andKitty while we are here. I had so many things to tell you about yourfather, and Tupper Browne, and The Circle, but you just sit around sokind of close-mouthed and silent and never ask a question! Wouldn'tyou like to know how your father is?" she asked. 

"Why, yes, " responded Hardy meekly. "Have you seen him lately?"

"I saw him just before we came away. He is dreadfully lonely, I know, but he wouldn't send any message. He never says _anything_ when I tellhim what you are doing, just sits and twists his mustache and listens;but I could tell by the way he said good-bye that he was glad I wascoming. I am sorry you can't agree--isn't there something you could doto make him happier?"

Hardy looked up from his dish-washing with a slow smile. 

"Which do you think is more important?" he asked, "for a man to pleasehis father or his best friend?"

Lucy suspected a trap and she made no reply. 

"Did you ever quote any of my poetry to father?" inquired Hardycasually. "No? Then please don't. But I'll bet if you told him I wascatching wild horses, or talking reason to these Mexican herders, you'd have the old man coming. He's a fighter, my father, and if youwant to make him happy when you go back, tell him his son has justabout given up literature and is the champion bronco-twister of theFour Peaks range. "

"But Rufus--would that be the truth?"

Hardy laughed. "Well, pretty near it--but I'm trying to please my bestfriend now. "

"Oh, " said Lucy, blushing. "Will--will that make much difference?" sheasked. 

"All the difference in the world, " declared Hardy warmly. "You want meto become a poet--he wants me to become a fighter. Well now, since Ihaven't been able to please him, I'm going to try to please you for awhile. "

"Oh, Rufus, " cried Lucy, "am I really--your best friend?"

"Why sure! Didn't you know that?" He spoke the words with a bluffgood-fellowship which pleased her, in a way, but at the same time lefther silent. And he, too, realized that there was a false note, a riftsuch as often creeps in between friends and if not perceived andchecked widens into a breach. 

"You know, " he said, quietly making his amends, "when I was a boy myfather always told me I talked too much; and after mother diedI--well, I didn't talk so much. I was intended for a soldier, youknow, and good officers have to keep their own counsel. But--well, Iguess the habit struck in--so if I don't always thank you, or tell youthings, you will understand, won't you? I wasn't raised to pleasefolks, you know, but just to fight Indians, and all that. How wouldyou like to be a soldier's wife?"

"Not very well, I am afraid, " she said. "All the fear and anxiety, and--well, I'm afraid I couldn't love my husband if he killedanybody. " She paused and glanced up at him, but he was deep inthought. 

"My mother was a soldier's wife, " he said, at last; and Lucy, seeingwhere his thoughts had strayed, respected his silence. It wassomething she had learned long before, for while Rufus would sometimesmention his mother he would never talk about her, even to Lucy Ware. So they finished their housework, deep in their own thoughts. But whenat last they stepped out into the sunshine Lucy touched him on thearm. 

"Wouldn't you like to bring your poems with you?" she suggested. "Wecan read them when we have found the spring. Is it very beautiful upthere?"

"Yes, " answered Hardy, "I often go there to write, when nobody isaround. You know Jeff and all these cowboys around here don't knowthat I write verse. They just think I'm a little fellow from somewhereup in California that can ride horses pretty good. But if I had handedit out to them that I was a poet, or even a college man, they wouldhave gone to tucking snakes into my blankets and dropping _chilibravos_ into my beans until they got a rise out of me, sure. I learnedthat much before I ever came up here. But I've got a little place Icall my garden--up in the cañon, above Hidden Water--and sometimes Isneak off up there, and write. Would you like to see a poem I wrote upthere? All right, you can have the rest some other time. " He steppedinto the storeroom, extracted a little bundle from his war bag, andthen they passed on up the valley together. 

The cañon of the Alamo is like most Arizona stream beds, a strait-jacketof rocky walls, opening out at intervals into pocket-like valleys, such as the broad and fertile flat which lay below Hidden Water. Oneither side of the stream the banks rise in benches, each a littlehigher and broader and more heavily covered: the first pure sand, laidon by the last freshet; the next grown over with grass and weeds; thenext bushed up with baby willows and arrow weed; and then, the highbench, studded with mesquite and _palo verdes_; and at the base ofthe solid rim perhaps a higher level, strewn with the rocks which timeand the elements have hurled down from the cliff, and crested withancient trees. Upon such a high bench stood the Dos S ranch house, with trails leading off up and down the flat or plunging down the bank, the striated cliff behind it and the water-torn valley below. 

Up the cañon a deep-worn path led along the base of the bluff; and asthe two best friends followed along its windings Hardy pointed out themysteries of the land: strange trees and shrubs, bristling withthorns; cactus in its myriad forms; the birds which flashed past themor sang in the wild gladness of springtime; lizards, slipping about inthe sands or pouring from cracks in the rocks--all the curious thingswhich his eyes had seen and his mind taken note of in the long days ofsolitary riding, and which his poet's soul now interpreted into ahigher meaning for the woman who could understand. So intent were theyupon the wonders of that great display that Lucy hardly noticed wherethey were, until the trail swung abruptly in toward the cliff and theyseemed to be entering a cleft in the solid rock. 

"Where do we go now?" she asked, and Hardy laughed at her confusion. 

"This is the gate to Hidden Water, " he said, lowering his voice to itsold-time poetic cadence. "And strait is the way thereof, " he added, ashe led her through the narrow pass, "but within are tall trees andrunning water, and the eagle nests undisturbed among the crags. "

"What _are_ you quoting?" exclaimed Miss Lucy, and for an answer Rufusbeckoned her in and pointed with his hand. Before them stood the talltrees with running water at their feet, and a great nest of sticksamong the crags. 

"Hidden Water!" he said, and smiled again mysteriously. 

Then he led the way along the side of the stream, which slipped softlyover the water-worn bowlders, dimpling in pool after pool, until atthe very gate of the valley it sank into the sand and was lost. Higherand higher mounted the path; and then, at the foot of a smooth ledgewhich rose like a bulwark across the gorge, it ended suddenly by theside of a cattle-tracked pool. 

"This is the wall to my garden, " said Hardy, pointing to the hugegranite dyke, "beyond which only the elect may pass. " He paused, andglanced over at her quizzically. "The path was not made for ladies, Iam afraid, " he added, pointing to a series of foot holes which ran upthe face of the ledge. "Do you think you can climb it?"

Lucy Ware studied his face for a moment; then, turning to the Indianstairway, she measured it with a practised eye. 

"You go up first, " she suggested, and when he had scaled the slipperyheight and turned he found her close behind, following carefully inhis steps. 

"Well, you _are_ a climber!" he cried admiringly. "Here, give me yourhand. " And when he had helped her up he still held it--or perhaps sheclung to his. 

Before them lay a little glade, shut in by painted rocks, upon whoseblack sides were engraved many curious pictures, the mystic symbols ofthe Indians; and as they stood gazing at it an eagle with pointedwings wheeled slowly above them, gazing with clear eyes down into thesunlit vale. From her round nest in the crotch of a sycamore a greathorned owl plunged out at their approach and glided noiselessly away;and in the stillness the zooning of bees among the rocks came to theirears like distant music. Beneath their feet the grass grew long andmatted, shot here and there with the blue and gold of flowers, likethe rich meadows of the East; and clustering along the hillsides, great bunches of grama grass waved their plumes proudly, the lastremnant of all that world of feed which had clothed the land like agarment before the days of the sheep. For here, at least, there cameno nibbling wethers, nor starving cattle; and the mountain sheep whichhad browsed there in the old days were now hiding on the topmost cragsof the Superstitions to escape the rifles of the destroyers. All theworld without was laid waste and trampled by hurrying feet, but thegarden of Hidden Water was still kept inviolate, a secret shrineconsecrated to Nature and Nature's God. 

As she stood in the presence of all its beauty a mist came into Lucy'seyes and she turned away. 

"Oh, Rufus, " she cried, "why don't you live up here always instead ofwasting your life in that awful struggle with the sheep? Youcould--why, you could do anything up here!"

"Yes, " assented Hardy, "it is a beautiful spot--I often come up herewhen I am weary with it all--but a man must do a man's work, you know;and my work is with the sheep. When I first came to Hidden Water Iknew nothing of the sheep. I thought the little lambs were pretty; theewes were mothers, the herders human beings. I tried to be friendswith them, to keep the peace and abide by the law; but now that I'vecome to know them I agree with Jeff, who has been fighting them fortwenty years. There is something about the smell of sheep which robsmen of their humanity; they become greedy and avaricious; the morethey make the more they want. Of all the sheepmen that I know thereisn't one who would go around me out of friendship or pity--and I havedone favors for them all. But they're no friends of mine now, " headded ominously. "I have to respect my friends, and I can't respect aman who is all hog. There's no pretence on either side now, though--they're trying to sheep us out and we are trying to fight themoff, and if it ever comes to a show-down--well--"

He paused, and his eyes glowed with a strange light. 

"You know I haven't very much to live for, Miss Lucy, " he saidearnestly, "but if I had all that God could give me I'd stand by Jeffagainst the sheep. It's all right to be a poet or an artist, a loverof truth and beauty, and all that, but if a man won't stand up for hisfriends when they're in trouble he's a kind of closet philosopher thatshrinks from all the realities of life--a poor, puny creature, at thebest. "

He stood up very straight as he poured out this torrent of words, gazing at her intently, but with his eyes set, as if he beheld somevision. Yet whether it was of himself and Jeff, fighting theirhopeless battle against the sheep, or of his life as it might havebeen if Kitty had been as gentle with him as this woman by his side, there was no telling. His old habit of reticence fell back upon him assuddenly as it had been cast aside, and he led the way up the littlestream in silence. As he walked, the ardor of his passion cooled, andhe began to point out things with his eloquent hands--the minnows, wheeling around in the middle of a glassy pool; a striped bullfrog, squatting within the spray of a waterfall; huge combs of honey, hanging from shelving caverns along the cliff where the wild bees hadstored their plunder for years. At last, as they stood before adrooping elder whose creamy blossoms swayed beneath the weight ofbees, he halted and motioned to a shady seat against the cañon wall. 

"There are gardens in every desert, " he said, as she sank down uponthe grassy bank, "but this is ours. "

They sat for a while, gazing contentedly at the clusters of elderblossoms which hung above them, filling the air with a rich fragrancewhich was spiced by the tang of sage. A ruby-throated humming-birdflashed suddenly past them and was gone; a red-shafted woodpecker, still more gorgeous in his scarlet plumage, descended in unevenflights from the _sahuaros_ that clung against the cliff and, fastening upon a hollow tree, set up a mysterious rapping. 

"He is hunting for grubs, " explained Hardy. "Does that inspire you?"

"Why, no, " answered Lucy, puzzled. 

"The Mexicans call him _pajaro corazon_--_páh-hah-ro cor-ah-sóne_, "continued the poet. "Does that appeal to your soul?"

"Why, no. What does it mean--woodpecker?"

Hardy smiled. "No, " he said, "a woodpecker with them is called_carpintero_--carpenter, you understand--because he hammers on trees;but my friend up on the stump yonder is _Pajaro Corazon_--bird of theheart. I have a poem dedicated to him. " Then, as if to excuse himselffrom the reading, he hastened on: "Of course, no true poet wouldcommit such a breach--he would write a sonnet to his lady's eyebrow, apoem in memory of a broken dream, or some sad lament for Love, whichhas died simultaneously with his own blasted hopes. But a sense of myown unimportance has saved me--or the world, at any rate--from suchlaments. _Pajaro Corazon_ and _Chupa Rosa_, a little humming-bird wholives in that elder tree, have been my only friends and companions inthe muse, until you came. I wouldn't abuse _Chupa Rosa's_ confidenceby reading my poem to her. Her lover has turned out a worthless fellowand left her--that was him you saw flying past just now, going up thecañon to sport around with the other hummers--but here is my poem to_Pajaro Corazon_. "

He drew forth his bundle of papers and in a shamefaced way handed oneof them to Lucy. It was a slip of yellow note paper, checked along themargin with groups of rhyming words and scansion marks, and in themiddle this single verse. 

 "Pajaro Corazon! Bird of the Heart! Some knight of honor in those bygone days Of dreams and gold and quests through desert lands, Seeing thy blood-red heart flash in the rays Of setting sun--which lured him far from Spain-- Lifted his face and, reading there a sign From his dear lady, crossed himself and spake Then first, the name which still is thine. "

Lucy folded the paper and gazed across at him rapturously. 

"Oh, Rufus, " she cried, "why didn't you send it to me?"

"Is it good?" asked Hardy, forgetting his pose; and when she noddedsolemnly he said:

"There is another verse--look on the other side. "

Lucy turned the paper over quickly and read again:

 "Pajaro Corazon! Bird of the Heart! Some Padre, wayworn, stooping towards his grave, Whom God by devious ways had sent so far, So far from Spain--still pressing on to save The souls He loved, now, raising up his eyes And seeing on thy breast the bleeding heart Of Jesus, cast his robes aside and spake Thy name--and set that place apart. "

As she followed the lines Hardy watched her face with eyes that grewstrangely soft and gentle. It was Lucy Ware of all the world whounderstood him. Others laughed, or pitied, or overdid it, or remainedunmoved, but Lucy with her trusting blue eyes and broad poet's brow--abrow which always made him think of Mrs. Browning who was a poetindeed, she always read his heart, in her he could safely trust. Andnow, when those dear eyes filled up with tears he could have taken herhand, yes, he could have kissed her--if he had not been afraid. 

"Rufus, " she said at last, "you are a poet. " And then she dried hereyes and smiled. 

"Let me read some more, " she pleaded; but Hardy held the bundleresolutely away. 

"No, " he said gently, "it is enough to have pleased you once. You knowpoetry is like music; it is an expression of thoughts which are morethan thoughts. They come up out of the great sea of our inner soullike the breath of flowers from a hidden garden, like the sound ofbreakers from the ocean cliffs; but not every one can scent theirfragrance, and some ears are too dull to hear music in the rush ofwaters. And when one has caught the music of another's song then itis best to stop before--before some discord comes. Lucy, " he began, ashis soul within him rose up and clamored for it knew not what, "Lucy--"

He paused, and the woman hung upon his lips to catch the words. 

"Yes?" she said, but the thought had suddenly left him. It was a greatlonging--that he knew--a great desire, unsensed because unknown--butdeep, deep. 

"Yes--Rufus?" she breathed, leaning over; but the light had gone outof his eyes and he gazed at her strangely. 

"It is nothing, " he murmured, "nothing. I--I have forgotten what I wasgoing to say. " He sighed, and looked moodily at his feet. "Thethoughts of a would-be poet, " he mused, cynically. "How valuable theyare--how the world must long for them--when he even forgets themhimself! I guess I'd better keep still and let you talk a while, " heended, absently. But Lucy Ware sat gazing before her in silence. 

"Isn't it time we returned?" she asked, after a while. "You know Ihave a great deal to do. "

"Oh, that's all right, " said Hardy, easily, "I'll help you. What doyou want to do--clean house?"

Lucy could have cried at her hero's sudden lapse--from Parnassus tothe scullery, from love to the commonplaces of living; but she hadschooled herself to bear with him, since patience is a woman's part. Yet her honest blue eyes were not adapted to concealment and, furtively taking note of her distress, Hardy fell into the role of apenitent. 

"Is my garden such a poor place, " he inquired gravely, "that you mustleave it the moment we have come? You have not even seen _ChupaRosa_. "

"Well, show me _Chupa Rosa_--and then we will go. "

She spoke the words reluctantly, rising slowly to her feet; and Hardyknew that in some hidden way he had hurt her, yet in what regard hecould not tell. A vague uneasiness came over him and he triedawkwardly to make amends for his fault, but good intentions never yetcrossed a river or healed a breach. 

"Here is her nest, " he said, "almost above our seat. Look, Lucy, it ismade out of willow down and spider webs, bound round and round thetwig. Don't you want to see the eggs? Look!" He bent the limb untilthe dainty white treasures, half buried in the fluffy down, wererevealed--but still she did not smile. 

"Oh, stop, Rufus!" she cried, "what will the mother-bird think? Shemight be frightened at us and leave her nest. Come, let's hurry awaybefore she sees us!"

She turned and walked quickly down the valley, never pausing to lookback, even when Rufus stopped to pluck a flower from among the rocks. 

"Here, " he said, after he had helped her down the Indian stairway; andwhen she held up her hand, passively, he dropped a forget-me-not intoit. 

"Oh!" she cried, carried away for a moment, "do they grow down here?"

"Yes, " he said, soberly, "even here. And they--sometimes you find themwhere you wouldn't expect--in rough places, you know, and among thestones. I--I hope you will keep it, " he said, simply. And Lucy divinedwhat was in his heart, better perhaps than he himself; but when atlast she was alone she buried her face in the pillow, and for a longtime the house was very still. 

CHAPTER XIII

A SNOW-SCENE

There was a big fire out under the mesquite that night and a band ofcowboys, in all the bravery of spurs, shaps, and pistols, rompedaround it in a stage-struck exuberance of spirits. The night washardly cold enough to call for fringed leather _chaparejos_, and theirguns should have been left in their blankets; nor are long-shankedTexas spurs quite the proper thing about camp, having a dirty way ofcatching and tripping their wearers; but the _rodéo_ outfit felt thatit was on dress parade and was trying its best to look the cowboypart. Bill Lightfoot even had a red silk handkerchief draped about hisneck, with the slack in front, like a German napkin; and his cartridgebelt was slung so low that it threatened every moment to drop his hugeColt's revolver into the dirt--but who could say a word?

The news of Judge Ware's visit had passed through the Four Peakscountry like the rumor of an Indian uprising and every man rode intoHidden Water with an eye out for calico, some with a foolish grin, some downcast and reserved, some swaggering in the natural pride ofthe lady's man. But a becoming modesty had kept Lucy Ware indoors, andKitty had limited herself to a furtive survey of the scene from behindwhat was left of Sallie Winship's lace curtains. With the subtlewisdom of a _rodéo_ boss Jefferson Creede had excused himself to theladies at the first sound of jangling horse-bells, and now he keptresolutely away from the house, busying himself with the manifoldduties of his position. To the leading questions of Bill Lightfoot andthe "fly bunch" which followed his lead he turned a deaf ear orreplied in unsatisfying monosyllables; and at last, as the fire lit upthe trees and flickered upon their guns and silver-mounted trappingsand no fair maids sallied forth to admire them, the overwroughtemotions of the cowboys sought expression in song. 

 "Oh my little girl she lives in the town, "

chanted Lightfoot, and the fly bunch, catching the contagion, joinedpromptly in on the refrain:

 _"A toodle link, a toodle link, a too--oo-dle a day!"_

At this sudden and suggestive outbreak Jeff Creede surveyed BillLightfoot coldly and puffed on his cigarette. Bill was always tryingto make trouble. 

 "And every time I see 'er, she asts me f'r a gown, "

carolled the leading cowboy; and the bunch, not to seem faint-hearted, chimed in again:

 _"Reladin to reladin, and reladin to relate!"_

Now they were verging toward the sensational part of the ballad, theplace where a real gentleman would quit, but Lightfoot only tossed hishead defiantly. 

"O-Oh--" he began, and then he stopped with his mouth open. The_rodéo_ boss had suddenly risen to an upright position and fixed himwith his eye. 

"I like to see you boys enjoyin' yourselves, " he observed, quietly, "but please don't discuss _politics_ or _religion_ while them ladiesis over at the house. You better switch off onto 'My Bonnie Lies overthe Ocean, ' Bill. " And Bill switched. 

"What's the matter?" he demanded aggrieved, "ain't anybody but you gotany rights and privileges around here? You go sportin' around andhavin' a good time all day, but as soon as one of us punchers openshis mouth you want to jump down his throat. What do _we_ know aboutladies--_I_ ain't seen none!"

The discussion of the moral code which followed was becomingacrimonious and personal to a degree when a peal of girlish laughterechoed from the ranch house and the cowboys beheld Judge Ware andHardy, accompanied by Miss Lucy and Kitty Bonnair, coming towardstheir fire. A less tactful man might have taken advantage of the hushto utter a final word of warning to his rebellious subjects, butCreede knew Kitty Bonnair and the human heart too well. As the partycame into camp he rose quietly and introduced the judge and the ladiesto every man present, without deviation and without exception, andthen, having offered Miss Ware his cracker box, he moved over a man ortwo and sat down. 

In the bulk of his mighty frame, the rugged power of his countenance, and the unconscious authority of his words he was easily master ofthem all; but though he had the voice of Mars and a head like OlympianZeus he must needs abase his proud spirit to the demands of theoccasion, for the jealousy of mortal man is a proverb. Where thepunchers that he hired for thirty dollars a month were decked out inshaps and handkerchiefs he sat in his shirt-sleeves and overalls, withonly his high-heeled boots and the enormous black sombrero which healways wore, to mark him for their king. And the first merry questionwhich Miss Kitty asked he allowed to pass unnoticed, until BillLightfoot--to save the credit of the bunch--answered it himself. 

"Yes, ma'am, " he replied politely. "That was a genuwine cowboy song wewas singin'--we sing 'em to keep the cattle awake at night. "

"Oh, how interesting!" exclaimed Kitty, leaning forward in hereagerness. "But why do you try to keep them awake? I should think theywould be so tired, after travelling all day. "

"Yes, ma'am, " responded Bill, twisting his silk handkerchiefnervously, "but if they go to sleep and anything wakes 'em up quickthey stompede--so we ride through 'em and sing songs. "

"Just think of that, Lucy!" cried Miss Kitty enthusiastically. "And itwas such a pretty tune, too! Won't you sing it again, Mr. Lightfoot?I'd just love to hear it!"

Here was a facer for Mr. Lightfoot, and Jefferson Creede, to whom alleyes were turned in the crisis, smiled maliciously and let him sweat. 

"Bill ain't in very good voice to-night, " he observed at last, as thesuspense became unbearable, "and we're kinder bashful about singin' tocompany, anyway. But if you want to hear somethin' good, you want togit Bill goin' about Coloraydo. Sure, Mr. Lightfoot is our beststory-teller; and he's had some mighty excitin' times up there in themparts, hain't you, Bill?"

Bill cast a baleful glance at his rival and thrust out his chininsolently. His Coloraydo experiences were a matter of jest with JeffCreede, but with the ladies it might be different. His courage rosebefore the flattering solicitude of Kitty Bonnair and he resolved thenand there to fool Mr. Creede or know the reason why. 

"Well, " he replied, stoutly, "they may look kinder tame alongside ofyour Arizona lies, but--"

"Oh, Mr. Lightfoot, _do_ tell me all about it!" broke in Kitty, withan alluring smile. "Colorado is an awfully wild country, isn't it? Anddid you ever have any adventures with bears?"

"Bears!" exclaimed Bill contemptuously. "Bears! Huh, we don't take nomore account of ordinary bears up in Coloraydo than they do of coonsdown here. But them big silver-tips--ump-um--excuse _me_!" He pausedand swaggered a little on the precarious support of his cracker box. "And yet, Miss Bunnair, " he said, lowering his voice to a confidentialkey, "I slept a whole night with one of them big fellers and neverturned a hair. I could've killed him the next day, too, but I was sograteful to him I spared his life. "

This was the regular "come-on" for Lightfoot's snow-storm story, andCreede showed his white teeth scornfully as Bill leaned back and beganthe yarn. 

"You see, Miss Bunnair, " began the Colorado cowboy, rolling his eyesabout the circle to quell any tendency to give him away, "Coloraydo isan altogether different country from this here. The mountains ismighty steep and brushy, with snow on the peaks, and the cactus ain'tmore 'n a inch high out on the perairie. But they's plenty of feed andwater--you betcher life I wisht I was back there now instead offightin' sheep down here! The only thing aginst that country up thereis the blizzards. Them storms is very destructive to life. Yes, ma'am. They's never any notice given but suddenly the wind will begin to blowand the cattle will begin to drift, and then about the time your horseis give out and your ears frozen it'll begin to snow!

"Well, this time I'm tellin' about I was up on the Canadian River westof the Medicine Bow Mountains and she came on to snow--and snow, Ithought it would bury me alive! I was lost in a big park--a kind ofplain or perairie among the mountains. Yes'm, they have'm there--biglevel places--and it was thirty miles across this here level perairie. The wind was blowin' something awful and the snow just piled up on myhat like somebody was shovellin' it off a roof, but I kept strugglin'on and tryin' to git to the other side, or maybe find some shelteredplace, until it was like walkin' in your sleep. And that light fluffysnow jest closed in over me until I was covered up ten feet deep. Ofcourse my horse had give out long ago, and I was jest beginnin' todespair when I come across one of them big piles of rocks they have upthere, scattered around promiscus-like on the face of nature; and Ibegin crawlin' in and crawlin' in, hopin' to find some cave orsomethin', and jest as I was despairin' my feet fell into a kind oftrail, kinder smooth and worn, but old, you know, and stomped hardunder the snow. Well, I follers along this path with my feet until itcome to a hole in the rocks; and when I come to that hole I went rightin, fer I was desprit; and I crawled in and crawled in until I come toa big nest of leaves, and then I begin to burrow down into themleaves. And as soon as I had made a hole I pulled them leaves over meand fell to sleep, I was that exhausted. 

"But after a while I had some awful bad dreams, and when I woke up Ifelt somethin' kickin' under me. Yes 'm, that's right; I feltsomethin' kinder movin' around and squirmin', and when I begin toinvestergate I found I was layin' down right square on top of atremenjous big grizzly bear! Well, you fellers can laugh, but I was, all the same. What do you know about it, you woolies, punchin' cowsdown here in the rocks and cactus?

"How's that, Miss Bunnair? W'y sure, he was hibernatin'! They allhibernate up in them cold countries. Well, the funny part of this wasthat Old Brin had gone to sleep suckin' his off fore foot, jest like alittle baby, and when I had piled in on top of him I had knocked hispaw out of his mouth and he was tryin' to git it back. But he was allquilled up with himself under them leaves, and his claws was so longhe couldn't git that foot back into his mouth nohow. He snooped andgrabbed and fumbled, and every minute he was gittin' madder andmadder, a-suckin' and slobberin' like a calf tryin' to draw milk outof the hired man's thumb, and a-gruntin' and groanin' somethin'awful. 

"Well, I see my finish in about a minute if he ever got good an' wokeup, so I resolved to do somethin' desprit. I jest naturally grabbedonto that foot and twisted it around and stuck it into his mouthmyself! Afraid? Ump-um, not me--the only thing I was afraid of wasthat he'd git my hand and go to suckin' it by mistake. But when Isteered his paw around in front of him he jest grabbed onto that bigblack pad on the bottom of his foot like it was m'lasses candy, andwent off to sleep again as peaceful as a kitten. "

The man from Coloraydo ended his tale abruptly, with an air ofsuspense, and Kitty Bonnair took the cue. 

"What did I do then?" demanded Lightfoot, with a reminiscent smile. "Well, it was a ground-hog case with me--if I moved I'd freeze todeath and if I knocked his paw out'n his mouth again he'd mash my facein with it--so I jest snuggled down against him, tucked my head underhis chin, and went to sleep, holdin' that paw in his mouth with bothhands. "

"Oh, Mr. Lightfoot, " exclaimed Kitty, "how could you? Why, that's themost remarkable experience I ever heard of! Lucy, I'm going to putthat story in my book when I get home, and--but what _are_ youlaughing at, Mr. Creede?"

"Who? Me?" inquired Jeff, who had been rocking about as if helplesswith laughter. "W'y, _I_ ain't laughin'!"

"Yes, you are too!" accused Miss Kitty. "And I want you to tell mewhat it is. Don't you think Mr. Lightfoot's story is true?"

"True?" echoed Creede, soberly. "W'y, sure it's true. I ain't neverbeen up in those parts; but if Bill says so, that settles it. I neverknew a feller from Coloraydo yet that could tell a lie. No, I was jestlaughin' to think of that old bear suckin' his paw that way. "

He added this last with such an air of subterfuge and evasion thatKitty was not deceived for a moment. 

"No, you're _not_, Mr. Creede, " she cried, "you're just making fun ofme--so there!"

She stamped her foot and pouted prettily, and the big cowboy's facetook on a look of great concern. 

"Oh, no, ma'am, " he protested, "but since it's gone so far I reckonI'll have to come through now in order to square myself. Of course Inever had no real adventures, you know, --nothin' that you would careto write down or put in a book, like Bill's, --but jest hearin' himtell that story of gittin' snowed in reminded me of a littleexperience I had up north here in Coconino County. You know Arizonaain't all sand and cactus--not by no means. Them San FranciscoMountains up above Flag are sure snow-crested and covered with talltimber and it gits so cold up there in the winter-time that it breaksrocks. No, that's straight! Them prospectors up there when they runshort of powder jest drill a line of holes in a rock and when one ofthem awful cold snaps comes on they run out and fill the holes up withhot water out of the tea-kittle. Well, sir, when that water freezes, which it does in about a minute, it jest naturally busts them rockswide open--but that ain't what I started to tell you about. "

He paused and contemplated his hearers with impressive dignity. 

"Cold ain't nothin', " he continued gravely, "after you git used toit; but once in a while, ladies, she snows up there. And when I say'snows' I don't refer to such phenominer as Bill was tellin' about upin Coloraydo, but the real genuwine Arizona article--the kind thatgits started and can't stop, no more 'n a cloudburst. Well, one time Iwas knockin' around up there in Coconino when I ought to've been athome, and I come to a big plain or perairie that was _seventy milesacross_, and I got lost on that big plain, right in the dead ofwinter. They was an awful cold wind blowin' at the time, but I couldsee the mountains on the other side and so I struck out for 'em. Butjest as I got in the middle of that great plain or perairie, she comeon to snow. At first she come straight down, kinder soft and fluffy;then she began to beat in from the sides, and the flakes began to gitbigger and bigger, until I felt like the Chinaman that walked downMain Street when they had that snow-storm in Tucson. Yes, sir, it wasjest like havin' every old whiskey bum in town soakin' you withsnow-balls--and all the kids thrown in. 

"My horse he began to puff and blow and the snow began to bank uphigher and higher in front of us and on top of us until, bymeby, hecouldn't stand no more, and he jest laid down and died. Well, ofcourse that put me afoot and I was almost despairin'. The snow wasstacked up on top of me about ten feet deep and I was desprit, but Ikept surgin' right ahead, punchin' a hole through that fluffy stuff, until she was twenty foot deep. But I wasn't afraid none--ump-um, notme--I jest kept a-crawlin' and a-crawlin', hopin' to find some rocksor shelter, until she stacked up on top of me thirty foot deep. _Thirty foot_--and slumped down on top o' me until I felt like ahorny-toad under a haystack. Well, I was gittin' powerful weak andpuny, but jest as I was despairin' I come across a big rock, right outthere in the middle of that great plain or perairie. I tried to crawlaround that old rock but the snow was pushin' down so heavy on top o'me I couldn't do nothin', and so when she was _fif-ty-two foot deep_by actual measurement I jest give out an' laid down to die. "

He paused and fixed a speculative eye on Bill Lightfoot. 

"I reckon that would be considered pretty deep up in Coloraydo, " hesuggested, and then he began to roll a cigarette. Sitting in rigidpostures before the fire the punchers surveyed his face with slow andsuspicious glances; and for once Kitty Bonnair was silent, watchinghis deliberate motions with a troubled frown. Balanced rakishly uponhis cracker box Bill Lightfoot regarded his rival with a sneeringsmile, a retort trembling on his lips, but Creede only leaned forwardand picked a smoking brand from the fire--he was waiting for the"come-on. "

Now to ask the expected question at the end of such a story was totake a big chance. Having been bitten a time or two all around, the_rodéo_ hands were wary of Jeff Creede and his barbed jests; thevisitors, being ignorant, were still gaping expectantly; it was up toBill Lightfoot to spring the mine. For a moment he hesitated, and thenhis red-hot impetuosity, which had often got him into trouble before, carried him away. 

"W'y, sure it would be deep for Coloraydo, " he answered, guardedly. 

Jefferson Creede glanced up at him, smoking luxuriously, holding thecigarette to his lips with his hand as if concealing a smile. 

"Aw, rats, " snapped out Lightfoot at last, "why don't you finish upand quit? What happened then?"

"Then?" drawled Creede, with a slow smile. "W'y, nothin', Bill--_Idied_!"

"Ah-hah-hah!" yelled the punchers, throwing up handfuls of dirt in theextravagance of their delight, and before Bill could realize theenormity of the sell one of his own partisans rose up and kicked thecracker box out from under him in token of utter defeat. For an hourafter their precipitate retreat the visitors could hear the whoopsand gibes of the cowboys, the loud-mouthed and indignant retorts ofLightfoot, and the soothing remonstrances of Jefferson Creede--andfrom the house Kitty the irrepressible, added to their merriment ashriek of silvery laughter. But after it was all over and he had won, the round-up boss swore soberly at himself and sighed, for hediscerned on the morrow's horizon the Indian signs of trouble. 

CHAPTER XIV

FOREBODINGS

To the Eastern eye, blinded by local color, the Four Peaks countrylooked like a large and pleasantly variegated cactus garden, sparselypopulated with rollicking, fun-loving cowboys who wore theirinteresting six-shooters solely to keep their balance in the saddle. The new grass stood untrampled beneath the bushes on Bronco Mesa, there were buds and flowers everywhere, and the wind was as sweet anduntainted as if it drew out of Eden. But somewhere, somewhere in thatgreat wilderness of peaks which lay to the south and through whichonly the dogged sheepmen could fight their way, stealthily hidden, yetwatching, lay Jasper Swope and his sheep. And not only Jasper with hispet man-killing Chihuahuano and all those low-browed _compadres_ whomhe called by circumlocution "brothers, " but Jim, sore with his defeat, and many others--and every man armed. 

After the first rain they had disappeared from the desert absolutely, their tracks pointing toward the east. The drought had hit them hard, and the cold of Winter; yet the ewes had lambed in the springtime, and as if by magic the tender grass shot up to feed their little ones. Surely, God was good to the sheep. They were ranging far, now that theshearing was over, but though they fed to the topmost peaks of theSuperstitions, driving the crooked-horned mountain sheep from theirpastures, their destiny lay to the north, in the cool valleys of theSierra Blancas; and there in the end they would go, though they lefthavoc in their wake. Once before the sheep had vanished in this sameway, mysteriously; and at last, travelling circuitous ways and dealingmisery to many Tonto cowmen, they had poured over the very summit ofthe Four Peaks and down upon Bronco Mesa. And now, though they werehidden, every man on the round-up felt their presence and knew thatthe upper range was in jeopardy. 

After amusing the ladies with inconsequential tales, the _rodéo_outfit therefore rose up and was gone before the light, raking theexposed lowland for its toll of half-fed steers; and even Rufus Hardy, the parlor-broke friend and lover, slipped away before any of themwere stirring and rode far up along the river. What a river it wasnow, this unbridled Salagua which had been their moat and rampart forso many years! Its waters flowed thin and impotent over the rapids, lying in clear pools against the base of the black cliffs, and thecurrent that had uprooted trees like feathers was turned aside by asnag. Where before the sheep had hung upon its flank hoping at last toswim at Hidden Water, the old ewes now strayed along its sandy bed, browsing upon the willows. From the towering black buttes that walledin Hell's Hip Pocket to the Rio Verde it was passable for a springlamb, and though the thin grass stood up fresh and green on the mesasthe river showed nothing but drought. Drought and the sheep, thosewere the twin evils of the Four Peaks country; they lowered the priceof cattle and set men to riding the range restlessly. For the droughtis a visitation of God, to be accepted and endured, but sheep may beturned back. 

As he rode rapidly along the river trail, halting on each ridge tosearch the landscape for sheep, Hardy's conscience smote him for thesingle day he had spent in camp, dallying within sight of Kitty ortalking with Lucy Ware. One such day, if the sheepmen were prepared, and Bronco Mesa would be a desert. Threats, violence, strategy, wouldbe of no avail, once the evil was done; the sheep must be turned backat the river or they would swarm in upon the whole upper range. Oneman could turn them there, for it was the dead line; but once acrossthey would scatter like quail before a hawk, crouching and hiding inthe gulches, refusing to move, yet creeping with brutish stubbornnesstoward the north and leaving a clean swath behind. There were fourpasses that cut their way down from the southern mountains to thebanks of the river, old trails of Apaches and wild game, and to quiethis mind Hardy looked for tracks at every crossing before he turnedChapuli's head toward camp. 

The smoke was drifting from the chimney when, late in the afternoon, he rode past the door and saw Lucy Ware inside, struggling with aniron kettle before the fireplace. Poor Lucy, she had undertaken a hardproblem, for there is as much difference between camp cooking and homecooking as there is between a Dutch oven and a steel range, and acooking-school graduate has to forget a whole lot before she can catchthe knack of the open fire. For the second time that day Rufus Hardy'sconscience, so lately exercised over his neglect of the sheep, rose upand rebuked him. Throwing Chapuli into the corral he kicked off hisspurs and shaps and gave Lucy her first lesson in frontier cookery;taught her by the force of his example how to waste her wood and saveher back; and at the end of the short demonstration he sat downwithout ceremony, and fell to eating. 

"Excuse me, " he said, "if I seem to be greedy, but I had my breakfastbefore sun-up. Where's your father, and Kitty?"

"Oh, they had the Mexican boy catch their horses for them and haveridden up the valley to watch for the cattle. I stayed behind tomake my first water color, and then--I thought you would be comingback soon, so I tried to cook supper instead. I'm a pretty goodhousekeeper--at home, " she said apologetically. 

Hardy watched her as she experimented painstakingly with the fire, scooping out shovelfuls of coal from beneath the glowing logs andplanting her pots and kettles upon them with a hooked stick, accordingto instructions. 

"You look like a picture of one of our sainted Puritan ancestors, " heobserved, at last, "and that's just exactly the way they cooked, too--over an open fire. How does it feel to be Priscilla?"

"Well, if Priscilla's hands looked like mine, " exclaimed Lucydespairingly, "John Alden must have been madly in love with her. How_do_ you keep yours clean?"

"That's a secret, " replied Hardy, "but I'll tell you. I never touchthe outside of a pot--and I scour them with sandsoap. But I wish you'dstop cooking, Lucy; it makes me feel conscience-stricken. You are myguests, remember, even if I do go off and neglect you for a whole day;and when you go back to Berkeley I want you to have something moreinteresting than housekeeping to talk about. Didn't I see two ladies'saddles out in the wagon?"

Miss Lucy's eyes lighted up with pleasure as, anticipating his drift, she nodded her head. 

"Well then, " said Hardy, with finality, "if you'll get up early in themorning, I'll catch you a little pony that I gentled myself, and wecan ride up the river together. How does that strike you?"

"Fine!" exclaimed Lucy, with sudden enthusiasm. 

"Oh, Rufus, " she cried impulsively, "if you only knew how weak andhelpless a thing it is to be a woman--and how glad we are to benoticed! Why, I was just thinking before you came in that about theonly really helpful thing a woman could do in this world was just tostay around home and cook the meals. "

"Well, you just let me cook those meals for a while, " said Rufus, withbrotherly authority, "and come out and be a man for a change. Can youride pretty well?"

Lucy glanced at him questioningly, and thought she read what was inhis mind. 

"Yes, " she said, "I can ride, but--but I just couldn't bring myself todress like Kitty!" she burst out. "I know it's foolish, but I can'tbear to have people notice me so. But I'll be a man in everythingelse, if you'll only give me a chance. " She stood before him, radiant, eager, her eyes sparkling like a child's, and suddenly Hardyrealized how much she lost by being always with Kitty. Seen by herselfshe was as lithe and graceful as a fairy, with a steady gaze very rarein women, and eyes which changed like the shadows in a pool, answeringevery mood in wind and sky, yet always with their own true light. Hercheeks glowed with the fresh color which her father's still retained, and she had inherited his generous nature, too; but in mind andstature she took after her dainty mother, whose exquisite grace andbeauty had made her one of the elect. Perhaps it was this quality ofthe petite in her which appealed to him--for a little man cannotendure to be laughed at for his size, even in secret--or perhaps itwas only the intuitive response to a something which in hisprepossession he only vaguely sensed, but Rufus Hardy felt his heartgo out to her in a moment and his voice sank once more to thecaressing fulness which she most loved to hear. 

"Ah, Lucy, " he said, "you need never try to be a man in order to ridewith me. It would be hard luck if a woman like you had to ask twicefor anything. Will you go out with me every day? No? Then I shall askyou every day, and you shall go whenever you please! But you know howit is. The sheepmen are hiding along the river waiting for a chanceto sneak across, and if I should stay in camp for a single day theymight make a break--and then we would have a war. Your father doesn'tunderstand that, but I do; and I know that Jeff will never submit tobeing sheeped out without a fight. Can't you see how it is? I shouldlike to stay here and entertain you, and yet I must protect yourfather's cattle, and I must protect Jeff. But if you will ride outwith me when it is not too hot, I--it--well, you'll go to-morrow, won't you?"

He rose and took her hand impulsively, and then as quickly dropped itand turned away. The muffled _chuck, chuck, _ of a horse's feetstepping past the door smote upon his ear, and a moment later a clearvoice hailed them. 

"What _are_ you children chattering about in there?" cried KittyBonnair, and Hardy, after a guilty silence, replied:

"The ways of the weary world. Won't you come in and have the lastword?"

He stepped out and held Pinto by the head, and Kitty dropped off andsank wearily into a rawhide chair. 

"Oh, I'm too tired to talk, riding around trying to find thosecattle--and just as I was tired out we saw them coming, away out onThe Rolls. Lucy, do put on your riding habit and go back onPinto--you haven't been out of the house to-day!"

As half an hour later Lucy Ware trotted obediently away, riding up thecañon toward the distant bawling of cattle, Kitty turned suddenly uponHardy with half-closed, accusing eyes. 

"You seem to be very happy with Lucy, " she said, with an aggrievedsmile. "But why, " she continued, with quickening animus, "why shouldyou seek to avoid me? Isn't it enough that I should come clear downhere to see you? But when I want to have a word with you after ourlong silence I have to scheme and manage like a gypsy!"

She paused, and flicked her booted leg with the lash of a horsehairquirt, glancing at him furtively with eyes that drooped with anappealing sadness. 

"If I had known how hard-hearted you could be, " she said, after asilence, "I should never have spoken as I did, if the words choked me. But now that I have come part way and offered my poor friendshipagain, you might--oh Rufus, how could you be so inconsiderate! No onecan ever know what I suffered when you left that way. Every one knewwe were the best of friends, and several people even knew that you hadbeen to see me. And then, without a word, without a sign, with noexplanation, to leave and be gone for years--think what they musthave thought! Oh, it was too humiliating!"

She paused again, and to Hardy's apprehensive eyes she seemed on theverge of tears. So he spoke, blindly and without consideration, filledwith a man's anxiety to stave off this final catastrophe. 

"I'm sorry, " he began, though he had never meant to say it, "but--butthere was nothing else to do! You--you told me to go. You said younever wanted to see me again, and--you were not very kind to me, then. " He paused, and at the memory of those last words of hers, uttered long ago, the flush of shame mantled his cheeks. 

"Every man has his limit, " he said bluntly, "and I am no dog, to bescolded and punished and sent away. I have been ashamed many times forwhat I did, but I had to keep my own respect--and so I left. Is it toomuch for a man to go away when he is told?"

Kitty Bonnair fixed him with her dark eyes and shook her head sadly. 

"Ah, Rufus, " she sighed, "when will you ever learn that a woman doesnot always mean all she says? When you had made me so happy by yourtender consideration--for you could be considerate when you chose--Isaid that I loved you; and I did, but not in the way you thought. Idid mean it at the moment, from my heart, but not for life--it was nosurrender, no promise--I just loved you for being so good and kind. But when, taking advantage of what I said in a moment of weakness, youtried to claim that which I had never given, I--I said more than Imeant again. Don't you understand? I was hurt, and disappointed, and Ispoke without thinking, but you must not hold that against me forever!And after I have come clear down here--to avoid me--to always go outwith Lucy and leave me alone--to force me to arrange a meeting--"

She stopped, and Hardy shifted uneasily in his seat. In his heart ofhearts he had realized from the first his inequality in this losingbattle. He was like a man who goes into a contest conquered already byhis ineptitude at arms--and Kitty would have her way! Never but oncehad he defied her power, and that had been more a flight than avictory. There was fighting blood in his veins, but it turned to waterbefore her. He despised himself for it; but all the while, in ashifting, browbeaten way, he was seeking for an excuse to capitulate. 

"But, Kitty, " he pleaded, "be reasonable. I have my duties downhere--the sheep are trying to come in on us--I have to patrol theriver. This morning before you were awake I was in the saddle, andnow I have just returned. To-morrow I shall be off again, so how can Iarrange a meeting?"

He held out his hands to her appealingly, carried away by the force ofhis own logic. 

"You might at least invite me to go with you, " she said. "Unless youexpect me to spend all my time getting lost with Judge Ware, " sheadded, with a plaintive break in her voice. 

"Why, yes--yes, " began Hardy haltingly. "I--I have asked Lucy to gowith me to-morrow, but--"

"Oh, thank you--thank you!" burst out Kitty mockingly. "But what?"

"Why, I thought you might like to come along too, " suggested Hardyawkwardly. 

"What? And rob her of all her pleasure?" Kitty smiled bitterly asshe turned upon him. "Why, Rufus Hardy, " she exclaimed, indignantly, "and she just dotes on every word you say! Yes, she does--any onecan see that she simply adores you. I declare, Rufus, your lack ofperception would make an angel weep--especially if it was a ladyangel. But you may as well understand once and for all that I willnever deprive dear, patient, long-suffering Lucy of anything she setsher heart on. No, I will _not_ go with you the next day. If youhaven't consideration enough to invite me first, I have sense enoughto stay away. It was only yesterday that you took Lucy up to HiddenWater, and to-day I find you with her again; and to-morrow--well, Iperceive that I must amuse myself down here. But--oh, look, look!There's a cowboy--up on that high cliff!"

She started up, pointing at a horseman who was spurring furiouslyalong the side of the cañon after a runaway steer. 

"Oh, look!" she cried again, as Hardy surveyed him indifferently. "Heis whirling his lasso. Oh! He has thrown it over that big cow's horns!Goodness me, where is my horse? No, I am going on foot, then! Oh, Lucy--Lucy dear, " she screamed, waving her hand wildly, "do let mehave Pinto, just for a moment! All right--and Lucy--wasn't that Mr. Creede?" She lingered on the ground long enough to give her anecstatic kiss and then swung up into the saddle. "Yes, I knew it--andisn't he just perfectly grand on that big horse? Oh, I've been wantingto see this all my life--and I owe it all to you!"

With a smile and a gay salutation, she leaned forward and galloped outinto the riot and confusion of the _rodéo_, skirting the edge of thebellowing herd until she disappeared in the dust. And somehow, even bythe childlike obliviousness with which she scampered away, shemanaged to convey a pang to her errant lover which clutched at hisheart for days. 

And what days those were for Jefferson Creede! Deep and devious as washis knowledge of men in the rough, the ways of a woman in love were ascryptic to him as the poems of Browning. The first day that Miss Kittyrode forth to be a cowboy it was the _rodéo_ boss, indulgent, butaware of the tenderfoot's ability to make trouble, who soberlyassigned his fair disciple to guard a pass over which no cow couldpossibly come. And Kitty, sensing the deceit, had as soberly amusedherself by gathering flowers among the rocks. But the next day, havinglearned her first lesson, she struck for a job to ride, and it was thegiddy-headed lover who permitted her to accompany him--although notfrom any obvious or selfish motives. 

Miss Bonnair was the guest of the ranch, her life and welfare beingplaced for the time in the keeping of the boss. What kind of a foremanwould it be who would turn her over to a hireling or intrust herinnocent mind to a depraved individual like Bill Lightfoot? And allthe decent cowmen were scared of her, so who was naturally indicatedand elected but Jefferson D. Creede?

There wasn't any branding at the round corral that night. The gatherwas a fizzle, for some reason, though Miss Kitty rode Pinto to afinish and killed a rattlesnake with Creede's own gun. Well, theynever did catch many cattle the first few days, --after they had pickedup the tame bunch that hung around the water, --and the dry weatherseemed to have driven the cows in from The Rolls. But when they camein the second afternoon, with only a half of their gather, Creede rodeout from the hold-up herd to meet them, looking pretty black. 

It is the duty of a _rodéo_ boss to know what is going on, if he hasto ride a horse to death to find out; and the next day, after sendingevery man down his ridge, Jeff left Kitty Bonnair talking lion huntwith old Bill Johnson who had ridden clear over from Hell's Hip Pocketto gaze upon this horse-riding Diana, and disappeared. As a result, Bat Wings was lathered to a fine dirt-color and there was one man inparticular that the boss wanted to see. 

"Jim, " he said, riding up to where one of the Clark boys was sullenlylashing the drag with his _reata_, "what in the hell do you mean bylettin' all them cattle get away? Yes, you did too. I saw you tryin'to turn 'em back, so don't try to hand me anything like that. I usedto think you was a good puncher, Jim, but a man that can't keep a herdof cows from goin' through a box pass ought to be smokin' cigaretteson the day herd. You bet ye! All you had to do was be there--andthat's jest exactly where you wasn't! I was up on top of that rockybutte, and I know. You was half a mile up the cañon mousin' around inthem cliffs, that's where you was, and the only question I want to askis, Did you find the Lost Dutchman? No? Then what in hell was youdoin'?"

The _rodéo_ boss crowded his horse in close and thrust his faceforward until he could look him squarely in the eye, and Clark jerkedback his head resentfully. 

"What is it to you?" he demanded belligerently. 

"Oh, nawthin', " returned the boss lightly, "jest wanted to know. "

"Uhr!" grunted the cowboy contemptuously. "Well, I was killin' snakes, then! What ye goin' to do about it?"

"Snakes!" cried Creede incredulously. "Killin' snakes! Since when didyou call a feud on them?"

"Since thet young lady come, " replied Clark, glancing around to see ifany one had the nerve to laugh. "I heerd her say she was collectin'rattles; an' I thought, while I was waitin', I might as well rustle upa few. Oh, you don't need to look pop-eyed--they's others!"

He rolled his eyes significantly at the group of assembled cowboys, and Creede took it all in at a flash. There _were_ others--he himselfhad a set of rattles in his shap pocket that were not two hours fromthe stump. The situation called for diplomacy. 

"Well, " he drawled, scratching his bushy head to cover his confusion, "this reflects great credit on your bringin' up, Jim, and I'm sureMiss Bonnair will appreciate what you've done for her, especiallyas I happened to notice a couple o' head of your own cows in thatbunch, but it's a mighty expensive way to collect snake-tails. Weain't gittin' the cattle, boys; that's the size of it, and they're asmuch yours as they are mine. Now I suggest that we run these fewwe've got down to the corral and brand 'em quick--and then the wholeshootin'-match goes over to the big white cliff and rounds up everyrattlesnake in the rock pile! Is it a go?"

"Sure!" yelled the bunch impetuously, and as they charged down uponthe herd Creede quietly fished out his snake-tail and dropped it inthe dirt. 

If he lacked a virtue he could feign it, anyhow--but there was nodoubt about it, Miss Kitty was putting his _rodéo_ on the bum. Therehad never been so many men to feed and so few calves to brand in thehistory of Hidden Water. Even old Bill Johnson had got the fever fromhearing the boys talk and was hanging around the fire. But then, whatwere a few head of cows compared to--well, what was it, anyway? Theonly man who could stay away was Rufe, and he was in good company. 

Yet Creede was not satisfied with this explanation. Miss Kitty wasalways asking questions about Rufe--they had known each other well inBerkeley--and at the same time the little partner with whom he hadbeen so friendly never came around any more. He was always verypolite, and she called him by his first name--and then one of themrode up the river and the other followed the round-up. 

The night after the big snake-killing Jefferson Creede picked up hisblankets and moved quietly back to the _ramada_ with Hardy. 

"Them locoed punchers have been skinnin' rattlers and stretchin' theirhides, " he said, "until the camp stinks like a buzzard roost. I'm dueto have some bad dreams to-night anyhow, on the strength of thissnake-killin', but it'd give me the jumpin' jimjams if I had to sleepnext to them remains. Didn't git back in time to join in, did ye?Well, no great loss. I always did intend to clean out that snake holeover'n the cliff, and the boys was stoppin' every time they heard onesing, anyhow, in order to git the rattles for Miss Bonnair, so Ithought we might as well git it off our minds before somethin' worseturned up. See any sheep tracks?"

He kicked off his boots, poked his six-shooter under his pillow, andsettled down comfortably for the night. 

"Nary one, eh?" he repeated musingly. "Well, when you see one you'llsee a million--that's been my experience. But say, Rufe, why don't youcome and ride with the boys once in a while? The _rodéo_ has beengoin' rotten this year--we ain't gittin' half of 'em--and you'd comein mighty handy. Besides, I've been braggin' you up to Miss Bonnair. "

He dropped this last as a bait, but Hardy did not respond. 

"I told her you was the best bronco-buster in the Four Peaks country, "continued Creede deliberately, "and that you could drift Chapuli overthe rocks like a sand lizard; but I'm too heavy for anything like thatnow, and Bill Lightfoot has been puttin' up the fancy work, so far. You know how I like Bill. "

Once more he waited for an answer, but Hardy was wrestling with thoseelementary passions which have been making trouble since Helen of Troyleft home, and he received the remark in silence. 

"I'll tell you, Rufe, " said Creede, lowering his voice confidentially. "Of course I see how it is with you and Miss Ware, and I'm glad of it;but things ain't goin' so lovely for me. It ain't my fault if MissBonnair happens to like my company, but Bill and some of the otherboys have got their backs up over it, and they've practically gone ona strike. Leastwise we ain't gittin' the cattle, and God knows therange won't more 'n carry what's left. I've got to git out and do someridin', and at the same time I want to do the right thing by MissBonnair, so if you could jest kindly come along with us to-morrow I'llbe much obliged. "

The elemental passions--man-love, jealousy, the lust for possession--areugly things at best, even when locked in the bosom of a poet. In theirsimplest terms they make for treachery and stealth; but whencomplicated with the higher call of friendship and duty they gall aman like the chains of Prometheus and send the dragon-clawed eaglesof Jove to tear at his vitals. Never until this naive confession hadHardy suspected the sanity of his friend nor the constancy of KittyBonnair. That she was capable of such an adventure he had neverdreamed--and yet--and yet--where was there a more masterful man thanJeff? Anything can happen in love; and who was there more capable ofwinning a romantic woman's regard than good-natured, impulsive, domineering Jeff?

The thoughts flashed through his brain with the rapidity oflightning, and only his instinct of reserve protected him from hisblundering tongue. 

"I--I was--" he began, and stopped short. The idea of loyalty hadruled his mind so long that it had become a habit, ill suited to thecause of a jealous lover; and Jeff had confided to him as a childmight run to its mother. Should a man take advantage of his friend'sinnocence to deprive him of that for which they both strove? Hardyfought the devil away and spoke again, quietly. 

"I was going up the river to-morrow, Jeff, " he said. "Seemed to me Isaw a kind of smoke, or dust, over south of Hell's Hip Pocket thisafternoon--and we can't take any chances now. That would take all day, you know. "

He lay still after that, his brain whirling with contending emotions. Each evening as he listened to the music of her laughter he hadresolved to quit his lonely watch and snatch from life the pleasure ofa single day with Kitty, such days as they used to have when he washer unacknowledged lover and all the world was young. Then he couldalways please her. He could bend to her moods like a willow, bravingthe storms of her displeasure, which only drew them closer in the end, secure in the hope of her ultimate yielding. But now the two barrenyears lay between; years which had stiffened his jaw and left himrough in his ways; years which had wrought some change in her, he knewnot what. A single day might solve the crux--nay, it might bring thegreat happiness of which he dreamed. But each morning as he woke withthe dawn he saw that mighty army without banners, the sheep, marchingupon their stronghold, the broad mesa which fed the last of Jeff'scows, and Judge Ware's, and Lucy's--and sprang from his blankets. Andwhen the sun rose and Kitty came forth he was far away. But now--

He was awakened from his dreams by the voice of Creede, low, vibrant, full of brotherly love. 

"Rufe, " he was saying, "Miss Bonnair has told me a lot about you--alot I didn't know. She likes you, boy, and she's a good woman. I neverknowed but one like her, and that was Sallie Winship. You mustn't letanything that's happened stand between you. Of course she never saidanything--never said a word--but I'm wise that way; I can tell bytheir voice, and all that. You want to let them dam' sheep go for aday or two and git this thing patched up. "

He paused, and Hardy's mind whirled backward, upsetting his fears, unmaking his conclusions. It was Jeff the friend who spoke, Jeffthe peacemaker, who had stampeded him by the equivocation of hiswords. But now the voice broke in again, apologetic, solicitous, self-seeking. 

"Besides, that son-of-a-gun, Bill Lightfoot, has been tryin' to cut meout. "

God! There it hit him hard. Kitty, the immaculate, the exquisite, thefriend of poets and artists, the woman he had loved and cherished inhis dreams--striven for by Jeff and Bill, revelling in the homage ofMexicans and hard-drinking round-up hands, whose natural language wasastench with uncleanliness. It was like beholding a dainty flower inthe grime and brutality of the branding pen. 

"I'm sorry, Jeff, " he said, in a far-away voice. "I--I'd do anything Icould for you--but I'm afraid of those sheep. "

He dragged miserably through the remnant of their conversation andthen lay staring at the stars while his hulk of a partner, this greatbear who in his awkward good nature had trampled upon holy ground, slept peacefully by his side. The Pleiades fled away before Orion, theScorpion rose up in the south and sank again, the Morning Star blinkedand blazed like a distant fire, such as shepherds kindle upon theridges, and still Hardy lay in his blankets, fighting with himself. The great blackness which precedes the first glow of dawn found himhaggard and weary of the struggle. He rose and threw wood on thecoals of last night's fire, cooked and ate in silence, and rode away. There was a great burden upon his soul, a great fire and anger in hisheart, and he questioned the verities of life. He rode up the rivergloomily, searching the southern wilderness with frowning, bloodshoteyes, and once more, far to the east where the jagged cliffs of theSuperstitions sweep down to the gorge of the Salagua and Hell's HipPocket bars the river's sweep, he saw that vague, impalpable haze--asmoke, a dust, a veil of the lightest skein, stirred idly by somewandering wind, perhaps, or marking the trail of sheep. And as helooked upon it his melancholy gaze changed to a staring, hawk-likeintentness; he leaned forward in the saddle and Chapuli steppedeagerly down the slope, head up, as if he sniffed the battle. 

CHAPTER XV

THE CATASTROPHE

A demon of unrest, twin devil to that which had so clutched and tornat the sensitive spirit of Rufus Hardy, seemed to rise up with thedawn of that ill-omened day and seize upon the camp at Hidden Water. It was like a touch of the north wind, which rumples the cat's back, sets the horses to fighting in the corrals, and makes men mean andgenerally contrary. Bill Johnson's hounds were the first to feel themadness. They left before sun-up, heading for the wooded heights ofthe Juate, and led him a weary chase. At the last moment Creedeabandoned the unprofitable working of The Rolls and ordered the_rodéo_ up onto Bronco Mesa; and Kitty Bonnair, taking advantage ofhis preoccupation, quietly gave him the slip at the end of their longeastern detour, and turned her pinto's head toward the river. 

As for Kitty, her will was the wind's will, which changes with thetimes and seasons but is accountable to no universal law. Never in herlife had she met a man who could quarrel like Rufus Hardy. Beneathher eye he was as clay in the hands of the potter; every glance spokelove, and for her alone. And yet it was something more than asmouldering resentment which made him avoid her, riding out before thedawn; more than the tremulous bashfulness which had stayed his handwhen at times he might have taken hers. There was something deep, hidden, mysterious, lurking in those fawnlike eyes, and it made himinsurgent against her will. It was a secret, hidden from all theworld, which he must yield to her. And then she would forgive him forall the unhappiness he had caused her and teach him what a thing it isfor a woman to love and be misunderstood. But first--first she mustsee him alone; she must burst upon him suddenly, taking his heart bystorm as she had on that first day, and leave the rest to fate. So shelingered to gather some flowers which nodded among the rocks, the shyand dainty forget-me-nots which they had picked together at home; andwhen Creede was over the first ridge she struck out boldly up a sidecañon, tucking the miniature bouquet into the shadows of her hair. 

The southern flank of Bronco Mesa breaks off sharply above theSalagua, rising slowly by slopes and terraced benches to the heights, and giving way before the river in a succession of broken ridges. Along these summits run winding trails, led high to escape the rougherground. Urged on by the slashings of her quirt, Pinto gallopedrecklessly through this maze of cow paths until as if by magic thegreat valley lay before them. There in its deep cañon was the riverand the river trail--and a man, mounted upon a sorrel horse, savagelyintent upon his way. For a minute Kitty studied him curiously as hehustled along, favoring his horse up the hills but swinging to thestirrup as he dodged bushes across the flats; then she flung out herhand impulsively, and called his name. In a flash he was up in hissaddle, looking. Chapuli tossed his head and in the act caught aglimpse of the other horse--then they both stood rigid, gazing inastonishment at the living statue against the sky. At sight of thatwitching figure, beckoning him from the mountain top, Hardy's heartleaped within him and stopped. Once more the little hand was thrownout against the sky and a merry voice floated down to him from thesun-touched heights. 

"Hello, Rufus!" it called teasingly, and still he sat gazing up ather. All the untamed passions of his being surged up and choked hisvoice--he could not answer. His head turned and he gazed furtivelyover his shoulder to the east, where his duty lay. Then of his ownaccord Chapuli stepped from the trail and began to pick his waysoberly up the hill. 

From the high summit of the butte all the world lay spread out like apanorama, --the slopes and cañons of Bronco Mesa, picketed with giant_sahuaros_; the silvery course of the river flowing below; theunpeopled peaks and cliffs of the Superstitions; and a faint haze-likezephyr, floating upon the eastern horizon. And there at last the eyesof Rufus Hardy and Kitty Bonnair met, questioning each other, and theworld below them took on a soft, dreamy veil of beauty. 

"Why, how did you come here?" he asked, looking down upon herwonderingly. "Were you lost?"

And Kitty smiled wistfully as she answered:

"Yes--till I found you. "

"Oh!" said Hardy, and he studied her face warily, as if doubtful ofher intent. 

"But how could you be lost, " he asked again, "and travel so far? Thisis a rough country, and you got here before I did. "

He swung down from his horse and stood beside her, but Kitty onlylaughed mischievously and shook her head--at which, by some lover'smagic, the dainty forget-me-nots fell from her hair in a shower ofsnowy blossoms. 

"I was lost, " she reiterated, smiling into his eyes, and in her gazeHardy could read--"without you. "

For a moment the stern sorrow of the night withheld him. His eyesnarrowed, and he opened his lips to speak. Then, bowing his head, heknelt and gathered up the flowers. 

"Yes, " he said gently, "I understand. I--I have been lost, too. "

They smiled and sat down together in the shadow of a great rock, gazing out over the peaks and pinnacles of the mountains which wall inHidden Water and talking placidly of the old days--until at last, whenthe spell of the past was on him, Kitty fell silent, waiting for himto speak his heart. 

But instantly the spell of her laughter was broken an uneasy thoughtcame upon Hardy, and he glanced up at the soaring sun. 

"Jeff will be worried about you, " he said at last. "He will think youare lost and give up the _rodéo_ to hunt for you. We must not stayhere so long. "

He turned his head instinctively as he spoke, and Kitty knew he wasthinking of the sheep. 

"Cattle and sheep--cattle and sheep, " she repeated slowly. "Is therenothing else that counts, Rufus, in all this broad land? Mustfriendship, love, companionship, all go down before cattle and sheep?I never knew before what a poor creature a woman was until I came toArizona. "

She glanced at him from beneath her drooping lashes, and saw his jawsset tense. 

"And yet only yesterday, " he said, with a sombre smile, "you hadtwenty men risking their lives to give you some snake-tails forplaythings. "

"But my old friend Rufus was not among them, " rejoined Kitty quietly;and once more she watched the venom working in his blood. 

"No, " he replied, "he refuses to compete with Bill Lightfoot at anyprice. "

"Oh, Rufus, " cried Kitty, turning upon him angrily, "aren't youashamed? I want you to stop being jealous of all my friends. It is themeanest and most contemptible thing a man can do. I--I won't standit!"

He glanced at her again with the same set look of disapproval stillupon his face. 

"Kitty, " he said, "if you knew what lives some of those men lead--thethoughts they think, the language they speak--you--you would not--" Hestopped, for the sudden tears were in her eyes. Kitty was crying. 

[Illustration: "No!" said Kitty, "you do not love me"]

"Oh, Rufus, " she sobbed, "if--if you only knew! Who else could I gowith--how--how else--Oh, I cannot bear to be scolded and--I only didit to make you jealous!" She bowed her head against her knees andHardy gazed at her in awe, shame and compassion sweeping over him ashe realized what she had done. 

"Kitty--dear, " he stammered, striving to unlock the twisted fingers, "I--I didn't understand. Look, here are your flowers and--I love you, Kitty, if I am a brute. " He took one hand and held it, stroking thelittle fingers which he had so often longed to caress. But with asudden wilfulness she turned her face away. 

"Don't you love me, Kitty?" he pleaded. "Couldn't you, if I should tryto be good and kind? I--I don't understand women--I know I have hurtyou--but I loved you all the time. Can't you forgive me, Kitty?"

But Kitty only shook her head. "The man I love must be my master, " shesaid, in a far-away voice, not looking at him. "He must value me aboveall the world. "

"But, Kitty, " protested Hardy, "I do--"

"No, " said Kitty, "you do _not_ love me. "

There was a lash to the words that cut him--a scorn half-spoken, half-expressed by the slant of her eye. As he hesitated he felt thehot blood burn at his brow. 

"Rufus, " she cried, turning upon him quickly, "_do_ you love me? Thentake me in your arms and kiss me!" She spoke the words fiercely, almost as a command, and Hardy started back as if he had been shot. 

"Take me in your arms and kiss me!" she repeated evenly, a flash ofscorn in her eyes. But the man who had said he loved her faltered andlooked away. 

"Kitty, " he said gently, "you know I love you. But--"

"But what?" she demanded sharply. 

"I--I have never--"

"Well, " said Kitty briefly, "it's all over--you don't have to! I justwanted to show you--" She paused, and her lip curled as she gazed athim from a distance. "Look at my horse, " she exclaimed suddenly, pointing to where Pinto was pawing and jerking at his bridle rein. When Hardy leapt up to free his foot she frowned again, for that isnot the way of lovers. 

He came back slowly, leading the horse, his face very pale, his eyesset. 

"You were right, " he said. "Shall we go?"

There was no apology in his voice, no appeal. It had grown suddenlyfirm and resonant, and he fixed her with his great honest eyessteadfastly. Something in the man seemed to rise up suddenly andrebuke her--nay, to declare her unworthy of him. The thought of thosetwo years--two years without a word--came upon Kitty and left hersober, filled with misgivings for the future. She cast about for someexcuse, some reason for delay, and still those masterful eyes werefixed upon her--sad, wistful, yet steadfast; and like a child sheobeyed them. 

It was a long ride to camp, long for both of them. When he had turnedher horse into the corral Hardy wheeled and rode off up the cañon, where the hold-up herd was bellowing and there was a man's work to do. There was wild riding that day, such as Judge Ware and Lucy had neverseen before, and more than one outlaw, loping for the hills, was ropedand thrown, and then lashed back to his place in the herd. Thesensitive spirit of Chapuli responded like a twin being to the suddenmadness of his master, and the lagging _rodéo_ hands were galvanizedinto action by his impetuous ardor. And at the end, when the ropingand branding were over, Hardy rode down to the pasture for a freshmount, his eyes still burning with a feverish light and his lipsclose-drawn and silent. 

The outfit was huddled about the fire eating greedily after the longday, when Creede, furtively watching his partner, saw his eyes fixedcuriously upon some object in the outer darkness. He followed theglance and beheld a hound--gaunt, lame, beseeching--limping aboutamong the mesquite trees which lined the edge of the flat. 

"There's one of Bill's dogs, " he remarked sociably, speaking to thecrowd in general. "Must've got sore-footed and come back. Here, Rock!Here, Rye! Here, Ring!" he called, trying the most likely names. "Here, puppy--come on, boy!" And he scraped a plate in that invitingway which is supposed to suggest feed to a dog. But Hardy rose upquietly from his place and went out to the dog. A moment later hecalled to Jeff and, after a hurried conference, the two of thembrought the wanderer up to the fire. 

"Hey!" called Bill Lightfoot, "that ain't one of Bill's pack--that'sold Turco, his home dog. "

"Don't you think I know Bill's dogs yet?" inquired Creede scathingly. "Now if you'll jest kindly keep your face shet a minute, I'll seewhat's the matter with this leg. "

He clamped Turco between his knees and picked up his fore leg, whilethe old dog whined and licked his hands anxiously. There was a stainof blood from the shoulder down, and above it, cut neatly through themuscles, a gaping wound. 

"That was a thirty-thirty, " said Creede grimly, and every man lookedup. Thirty-thirty was a sinister number on the range--it was thecalibre of a sheep-herder's carbine. 

"Aw, go on, " scoffed Bill Lightfoot, rushing over to examine thewound. "Who could have shot him--away over in Hell's Hip Pocket?"

"Um--that's it, " observed Creede significantly. "What you goin' to do, Rufe?"

"I'm going over there, " answered Hardy, throwing the saddle on hishorse. He looked over his shoulder as he heaved on the cinch. "That'swhere that dust was, " he said, and as the outfit stood gaping he swungup and was off into the darkness. 

"Hey, take my gun!" yelled Jeff, but the clatter of hoofs neverfaltered--he was going it blind and unarmed. Late that night anotherhorseman on a flea-bitten gray dashed madly after him over the Pockettrail. It was Old Bill Johnson, crazed with apprehension; and behindhim straggled his hounds, worn from their long chase after the lion, but following dutifully on their master's scent. The rest of theoutfit rode over in the morning--the punchers with their pistolsthrust into the legs of their shaps; Creede black and staring withanger; the judge asking a thousand unanswered questions and protestingagainst any resort to violence; the women tagging along helplessly, simply because they could not be left alone. And there, pouring forthfrom the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket, came the sheep, a solid phalanx, urged on by plunging herders and spreading out over the broad mesalike an invading army. Upon the peaks and ridges round about stoodgroups of men, like skirmishers--camp rustlers with their packs andburros; herders, whose sheep had already passed through--every manwith his gun in his hand. The solid earth of the trail was worn downand stamped to dust beneath the myriad feet, rising in a cloud abovethem as they scrambled through the pass; and above all other soundsthere rose the high, sustained tremolo of the sheep:

"_Blay-ay-ay-ay! Blay-ay-ay-ay! Blay-ay-ay-ay!_"

To the ears of the herders it was music, like the thunder of stamps toa miner or the rumble of a waterfall to a lonely fisher; the old, unlistened music of their calling, above which the clamor of the worldmust fight its way. But to the cowmen it was like all hell brokenloose, a confusion, a madness, a babel which roused every passion intheir being and filled them with a lust to kill. 

Without looking to the right or to the left, Jefferson Creede fixedhis eyes upon one man in that riot of workers and rode for him as acorral hand marks down a steer. It was Jasper Swope, hustling the lastof a herd through the narrow defile, and as his Chihuahuanos caughtsight of the burly figure bearing down upon the _padron_ theyabandoned their work to help him. From the hill above, Jim Swope, hisface set like iron for the conflict, rode in to back up his brother;and from far down the cañon Rufus Hardy came spurring like the wind totake his place by Creede. 

In the elemental clangor of the sheep they faced each other, Creedetowering on his horse, his face furious with rage; Swope gray with thedust of his driving but undaunted by the assault. 

"Stop where you are!" shouted Swope, holding out a warning hand as thecowman showed no sign of halting. But Creede came straight on, neverflinching, until he had almost ridden him down. 

"You low-lived, sheep-eatin' hound, " he hissed, piling in thewickedest of his range epithets, "you and me have had it comin' ferquite a while, and now I've got you. I've never yet seen a sheepmanthat would fight in the open, but you've got to or take _that_!" Heleaned over suddenly and slapped him with his open hand, laughingrecklessly at the Mexicans as they brandished their guns and shouted. 

"_Quite se, cabrones_, " he jeered, sorting out the worst of hisfighting Spanish for their benefit, "you are all gutter pups--you areafraid to shoot!"

"Here, " rasped out Jim Swope, spurring his horse in between them, "what are you fellers tryin' to do? Git out of here, _umbre_--go onnow! Never mind, Jasp, I'll do the talkin'. You go on away, will ye!Now what's the matter with you, Mr. Creede, and what can I do foryou?"

Jasper Swope had whirled back from the blow as a rattler throws hiscoils. His gray eyes gleamed and he showed all his broken teeth as hespat back hate and defiance at Creede; but Jim was his elder brotherand had bested him more than once since the days of their boyishquarrels. Slowly and grudgingly he made way, backing sullenly off withhis Mexicans; and Jim stood alone, opposing his cold resolution to thewhite-hot wrath of Creede. 

"You can turn back them sheep and git off my range!" yelled Creede. "Turn 'em back, I say, or I'll leave my mark on some of you!"

"How can I turn 'em back?" argued Swope, throwing out his hands. "They's ninety thousand more behind me, and all headin' through thispass. "

"You know very well that this is a put-up job, " retorted Creede hotly. "You sheepmen have been crawlin' around on your bellies for a month toget a chanst to sheep us out, and now you say you can't help yourself!You're the crookedest, lyingest sheep-puller in the bunch, Jim Swope. You'd rob a graveyard and show up for prayers the next mornin'. I canlick you, you big Mormon-faced stiff, with one hand tied behind me, and what's more--"

"Here now--here no-ow--" protested Swope, holding out his hand forpeace, "they ain't no call for no such talk. Mebbe you can lick me, and mebbe you can't, but it won't do you any good to try. My sheep ishere, and here they'll stay, until I git good and ready to move 'em. This is a free range and a free country, and the man ain't born thatcan make me stop. "

He paused, and fixed his keen eyes upon Creede, searching him to theheart; and before that cold, remorseless gaze the fighting frenzy inhis brain died away. Meanwhile Hardy had come up from where he hadbeen turning back sheep, and as he rode in Jeff instinctively made wayfor him. 

"No, " replied Hardy, fastening his stern eyes upon the iron visage ofthe sheepman, "not if the lives of a thousand cattle and the lastpossessions of a dozen men lay in your way. You and your legal rights!It is men like you who make the law worse than nothing and turn honestcowmen into criminals. If there is anything in it you will lie to theassessor or rob a poor man's cabin with the best of them, but when itcomes to your legal right to sheep us out you are all for law andorder. Sure, you will uphold the statutes with your life! Look atthose renegade Mexicans, every man armed by you with a rifle and arevolver! Is that the way to come onto another man's range? If you aregoing to sheep us out, you can try it on; but for God's sake cut itout about your sacred rights!"

He rose up in his saddle, haranguing the assembly as he spoke, andonce more Jim Swope felt his cause being weakened by the attacks ofthis vehement little cowman. 

"Well, what kin I do about it?" he cried, throwing out his hands invirtuous appeal. "My sheep has got to eat, hain't they?"

"Sure, " assented Hardy, "and so have our cattle. But I tell you whatyou can do--you can go out through that pass yonder!"

He pointed at the cañon down which the sheep had come in the Fall, thegreat middle fork which led up over the Four Peaks; but the sheepman'sonly reply was a snarl of refusal. 

"Not if I know myself, " he muttered spitefully. "How'd do, Judge!" Hefixed his eyes eagerly upon Judge Ware, who was hastening to join inthe struggle. "You're just the man I want to see, " he continued, advancing briskly to meet him, "and I want to ask you, here and nowbefore these witnesses, do you claim any right to the exclusive use ofthis land?"

"Why, certainly not, certainly not, " answered the judge warmly, "butat the same time I do claim an equity which rises from prior andundisputed possession, and which has always and ought now to protectmy range from any outside invasion. "

"Very likely, very likely, " remarked Swope dryly. "And now, Judge, Iwant to ask you another question before these witnesses. Did you ordid you not authorize your superintendent and foreman to threaten andintimidate my men and me, with the idea of driving us off this publicland?"

"I did not, " replied the judge, his mind suddenly filled with visionsof criminal proceedings. "On the contrary, I have repeatedly warnedthem against any such action. "

"At the same time, " echoed Swope, quick to follow up his advantage, "these men, who are your agents and employees, have systematicallymoved my herders off this range by armed violence, and your foremanhas just now struck my brother, besides threatening to kill some of usif we don't turn back. I want to tell you right now, Mr. Ware, that Ihave consulted the best lawyers in this Territory as to my rights onpublic lands, and you will be held personally responsible for any actsof violence on the part of your employees. Now I want to ask you onemore question: Do you deny my right to pass through this range on myway to the Sierra Blancas? You don't? Well then, call off these men!"

He paused and jerked his thumb toward Creede and Hardy, grinningevilly, and as he spoke Creede crowded forward, his brow black as athunder cloud. 

"I don't take orders from nobody, " he cried vehemently, "not now, andnever will. I've got a few hundred head of cows on this range myselfand I intend to protect 'em if I have to kill somebody. You'll have togit another foreman, Judge, --I've quit. "

He shot a glance of pitying contempt at the man who had so stupidlymarred their fortunes, then he turned and fixed his burning eyes uponhis archenemy. 

"Jim, " he said, speaking quietly at last, "my father had ten thousandhead of cattle on this range before you sheepmen came--and that's allI've got left. If you think you can sheep me out, go to it!"

He turned his horse's head toward Hidden Water, never looking back atthe sheep; and the cowmen fell in behind him, glad of an excuse toretreat. What were a bunch of cowboys, armed with six-shooters, tohalf a hundred sheepmen armed with repeating rifles and automaticrevolvers? No, it was better to let the sheep come, let them spreadout and scatter, and then jump the herders at night, if it cameto that. But what, reasoned the cautious ones, were a few hundredhead of cows anyhow, in a losing fight against the law itself? Whatwas a petty revenge upon some low-browed Mexican to the years ofimprisonment in Yuma which might follow? There were some among thatlittle band of cowmen who yelled for action, others who were disgustedenough to quit, and others yet who said nothing, riding by themselvesor exchanging furtive glances with Creede. The Clark boys, BenReavis, and Juan Ortega--these were the men whom the _rodéo_ bossknew he could trust, and none of them spoke a word. 

Worn and haggard from his night's riding, Rufus Hardy rode along withJudge Ware and the ladies, explaining the situation to them. Thesheep had come in from the far east, crossing where sheep had nevercrossed before, at the junction of Hell's Hip Pocket Creek and thedrought-shrunk Salagua. They had poured into the Pocket in solidcolumns, sheeping it to the rocks, and had taken the pass beforeeither he or Bill Johnson could get to it. All through the night thesheepmen had been crowding their flocks through the defile untilthere were already twenty or thirty thousand on Bronco Mesa, withfifty thousand to follow. Bill Johnson had shot his way throughthe jam and disappeared into the Pocket, but he could do nothingnow--his little valley was ruined. There would not be a spear ofgrass left for his cattle, and his burros had already come out withthe pack animals of the sheepmen. No one knew what had happened whenhe reached his home, but the Mexican herders seemed to be badlyscared, and Johnson had probably tried to drive them out of thevalley. 

All this Hardy explained in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, free fromapprehension or excitement; he listened in respectful silence to JudgeWare's protests against violence and threats of instant departure; andeven humored Kitty's curiosity by admitting that Mr. Johnson, who wasapparently out of his head when he shot the sheep, had probably takena shot or two at the herders, as well. But Lucy Ware was not deceivedby his repose; she saw the cold light in his eyes, the carefulavoidance of any allusion to his own actions, and the studiedconcealment of his future intent. But even then she was not preparedwhen, after supper, her father came into the ranch house and told herthat Mr. Hardy had just resigned. 

"I can't imagine why he should leave me at this time, " exclaimed thejudge, mopping the sweat from his brow, and groaning with vexation, "but a man who will desert his own father in the way he has done iscapable of anything, I suppose. Just because he doesn't approve of mypolicies in regard to these sheep he coolly says he won't embarrassme further by staying in my employ! I declare, Lucy, I'm afraid I'mgoing to lose everything I have down here if both he and Creede desertme. Don't you think you could persuade Rufus to stay? Go out and seehim and tell him I will consent to anything--except this _unlawfulharrying_ of the sheep. "

The old judge, still perspiring with excitement, sank wearily downinto a chair and Lucy came over and sat upon his knee. 

"Father, " she said, "do you remember that you once told me you wouldgive me this ranch if I wanted it? Well, I want it now, and perhaps ifyou give it to me Rufus will consent to stay. "

"But, daughter--" protested the judge, and then he sat quiet, pondering upon the matter. 

"Perhaps you are right, " he said at last. "But tell me one thing--thereis nothing between you and Rufus, is there?"

He turned her face so that he could look into her honest eyes, butLucy twisted her head away, blushing. 

"No, " she said faintly. "He--he is in love with Kitty. "

"With Kitty!" cried Judge Ware, outraged at the idea. "Why, he--butnever mind, never mind, darling. I am glad at least that it is notwith you. We must be going home soon now, anyway, and that will breakoff this--er--But I don't remember having seen them together much!"

"No, " said Lucy demurely, "he has been very discreet. But you haven'tanswered my question, father. Will you give me the ranch if I getRufus to stay? Oh, you're a dear! Now you just leave everything in myhands and see what a good business woman I am!"

She skipped lightly out the door and hurried over to where Hardy andJefferson Creede were sitting under a tree, talking gravely together. They stopped as she approached and Hardy looked up a little sullenlyfrom where he sat. Then he rose, and took off his hat. 

"May I have a few words with you on a matter of business, Rufus?" sheasked, with her friendliest smile. "No, don't go, Mr. Creede; you areinterested in this, too. In fact, " she added mysteriously, "I needyour assistance. "

A slow smile crept into the rough cowboy's eyes as he sat watchingher. 

"What can I do for you?" he inquired guardedly. 

"Well, " answered Lucy, "the situation is like this--and I'm not tryingto rope you in on anything, as you say, so you needn't looksuspicious. My father has become so discouraged with the way thingsare going that he has given the entire Dos S Ranch to me--if I canmanage it. Now I know that you both have quit because you don'tapprove of my father's orders about the sheep. I don't know what yourplans are but I want to get a new superintendent, and that's where Ineed your assistance, Mr. Creede. "

She paused long enough to bestow a confiding smile upon the _rodéo_boss, and then hurried on to explain her position. 

"Of course you understand how it is with father. He has been a judge, and it wouldn't do for a man in his position to break the laws. But Iwant you two men to tell me before you go just what you think I oughtto do to save my cattle, and you can say whatever you please. Mr. Creede, if you were a woman and owned the Dos S outfit, what would youdo about the sheep?"

For a minute Creede sat silent, surveying the little lady from beneathhis shaggy hair. 

"Well, " he said judicially, "I think I'd do one of two things: I'deither marry some nice kind man whose judgment I could trust, and turnthe job over to him, "--he glanced sideways at Hardy as he spoke, --"orI'd hire some real mean, plug-ugly feller to wade in and clean 'emout. Failin' in that, I think I'd turn the whole outfit over to Rufehere and go away and fergit about it. "

He added these last words with a frank directness which left no doubtas to his own convictions in the matter, and Lucy turned an inquiringeye upon Hardy. He was busily engaged in pounding a hole in the groundwith a rock, and Lucy noted for the first time a trace of silver inhis hair. The setting sun cast deep shadows in the set lines of hisface and when he finally looked up his eyes were bloodshot andhaggard. 

"There's no use in talking to me about that job, " he said morosely. "I've got tired of taking orders from a man that doesn't know whathe's talking about, and I want to use my own judgment for a while. Wewon't let anything happen to your cattle, Miss Lucy, and I thank youvery much, but I'm afraid I can't do it. "

He stopped, and bowed his head, hammering moodily away at his hole inthe rocky ground. 

"Excuse me a minute, Miss Ware, " said Creede, rising to his feet asthe silence became oppressive. "Come over here, Rufe, I want to talkwith you. "

They stood with their heads together, Jeff tapping the little man onthe chest with every word, and still there was the same doggedresistance. "Well, come on and let's find out, " protested Creede atlast, impatiently dragging him back. 

"Miss Ware, " he said politely, "what do you expect of this here supe?I might want that job myself, later on, " he observed importantly. 

Lucy smiled at the bare-faced fraud and hastened to abet it. 

"I expect him to look after my cattle, " she responded promptly, "andto protect my best interests according to his own judgment. The onlything I insist upon is that he leave his gun at home. "

"I'm sorry, " said Creede briefly. "And I needed the job, too, " headded lugubriously. "How about your foreman?" he inquired, as ifsnatching at a straw. "Same thing, eh? Well, I'll go you--nextmonth. "

He laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and crowded his big black sombrerodown over his eyes until it gave him a comical air of despair. 

"Luck's gone, " he remarked, reaching parenthetically for a cigarettepaper. "See you later. " And, with a last roguish twinkle at Miss Lucy, he slouched off toward the fire. 

His luck indeed had gone, but somewhere in that giant carcass whichharbored the vindictive hate of an Apache, and the restless energy ofa Texano, there still lingered the exuberant joyousness of a boy, theindomitable spirit of the pioneer, resigned to any fate so long asthere is a laugh in it. As he drifted into the crowd Lucy's heart wentout to him; he was so big and strong and manly in this, the finaleclipse of his waning fortunes. 

"Mr. Creede is a noble kind of a man, isn't he?" she said, turning towhere Hardy was still standing. "Won't you sit down, Rufus, and let'stalk this over for a minute. But before you decide anything, I wantyou to get a good night's sleep. You are a free man now, you know, andif there's any worrying to be done it's my funeral--isn't it?"

If he heard her at all Hardy made no response to the jest. He stoodbefore her, swaying dizzily as he groped about for his hat, which hadfallen from his hand. Then at last a faint smile broke through thedrawn lines in his face. 

"That's right, " he said, sinking down at her side, and as he settledback against the tree his eyes closed instantly, like a child whosebedtime has come. "I'm--I'm so dead tired I can't talk straight, Lucy--to say nothing of think. But--I'll take care of you. We aren'tsheeped out yet. Only--only I can't--I forget what I'm going to say. "His head fell forward as he spoke, his hands hung heavy, and heslipped slowly to the ground, fast asleep. 

After two days and nights of turmoil and passion his troubles wereended, suddenly; and as she raised him up Lucy Ware bent down quicklyunder cover of the dusk and kissed his rumpled hair. 

CHAPTER XVI

THE DEPARTURE

The gentle hand of sleep, which held Hardy in a grip that was akin todeath, blotting out the past and dispelling all remembrance of hissorrows, failed utterly to abate the fighting spirit of JeffersonCreede or sap the Spartan grimness of his purpose. Worn by thedestroying anger of the previous day, thwarted and apparentlydefeated, he rose up at the first glow of dawn and set about hispreparations with an unemotional directness which augured ill forJasper Swope. Before the sun was an hour high he had the town herd onthe trail for Bender, entrusted to the care of Bill Lightfoot andseveral others of whom he wanted to be rid. The camp was dismantled, the packs were loaded upon the spare horses, and the outfit was readyto start for Carrizo Creek before breakfast was more than finished inthe ranch house. After a final survey to make sure that nothing hadbeen overlooked in the scuffle, the _rodéo_ boss waved his hand to theleaders; then, as the train strung out up the cañon, he rode over tothe house to say good-bye. The last farewell is a formality oftendispensed with in the Far West; but in this case the boss had businessto attend to, and--well, he had something to say to Kitty Bonnair, too. 

Very quietly, in order not to awaken his partner--whom he had pickedup like a tired baby and stored away in the darkened bunk-room theevening before--Creede opened the door of the living-room, greeted hislady-love with a cheerful grin, and beckoned Miss Lucy outside by abackward jerk of the head. 

"Sorry to disturb you, Miss Ware, " he said, "but we're movin' campthis mornin' and before I go I want to tell you about them cattle I'mjust sendin' to town. If I didn't have other business on hand I'd godown with you gladly and sell 'em for you, but when you git to Benderyou go to Chris Johansen, the cattle buyer, and give him this list. You won't savvy what it is but Chris will, and you tell him that if hedon't give you the best market price for them cows he'll haveto--lick--me! This is a dry year and feeders ain't much nohow, but Idon't want to see no friend of mine robbed. Well, so-long, Miss Ware. Hope you have a good trip. "

He gripped her hand awkwardly, picked up his bridle lash, and thrustone boot thoughtfully into the stirrup. Then, as if suddenly cognizantof a neglected duty, he snapped his foot out and threw the lash backon the ground. 

"I'll say good-bye to the judge, " he drawled, "so's to show they ain'tno hard feelin'. Your old man don't exactly fit in these parts, " heobserved apologetically, "but he means well, I reckon. You can tell'im some time that I was kind of excited when I quit. "

His farewell was a sober and dignified affair, after the courtlyschool of the South--no allusions to the past, no references to thefuture, merely a gentlemanly expression of regret that his guest'svisit should have been so suddenly terminated. But when he turned toMiss Kitty his masterful eyes began to glow and waver and he shiftedhis feet uneasily. 

"Kin I speak with you a minute outside?" he said at last; and Kitty, still eager to read the heart of Man, the Unfinished, followed afterhim, laughing as he stooped to pass his high hat through the door. 

"Come on out by the corral, " he urged, confidently leading the way. When they were concealed by the corner of the fence he stopped anddropped his bridle rein. 

"Well, we've had a pretty good time together down here, hain't we?" heobserved, twisting the fringe of his shaps and smiling at her frombeneath his forelock. "I ain't got but a minute--and there's somerough work ahead, I reckon--but I jest wanted to--well, I wanted togive you this. " He dove down into his overalls' pocket and brought upa nugget, worn smooth by long milling around between his spare changeand his jackknife. 

"That's a chunk of gold I found over by Red Butte one time, " he said, handing it over. "Thought you might want to keep it for me, you know. But say--" He crowded his hands into his pockets and canted his headto one side, ogling her roguishly. 

Kitty had never observed just such conduct before, and she wascurious. 

"Why--what?" she inquired, tossing back her hair tantalizingly. 

"Don't I git nothin' to remember you by, little girl?" he demanded, his voice vibrant with passion. "We've been pretty good friends, youknow. In fact--well, say, don't I git jest one kiss?"

He drew her gently into his arms as he spoke, waited a fraction of asecond for her to resist, and then kissed her, suddenly and withmasterful violence. 

"One more, " he pleaded insistently. "No? All right then, " he said, swinging gracefully up on his horse as she pushed him away. "I'llalways remember that one, anyhow!"

He leaned forward and Bat Wings shot away up the cañon like a chargerthat sniffs the combat, thundering out across the _parada_ grounds, swinging beneath the giant mesquite, and plunging down the bank thatled to the creek. And all the time his rider sat with one hand on thecantle, his white teeth flashing back a wistful smile. 

Taken by surprise Kitty Bonnair stood staring blankly after him, rubbing her cheek which burned hot where he had kissed her. She wouldalways remember that kiss too, and all too late she remembered tobecome indignant. But, no one being about, she laughed low to herselfand hurried back to the house, her eyes downcast and pensive. She hadknown many men and lovers in her time, but never a one like JeffCreede. 

There was a sound of hasty packing in the Dos S ranch house thatmorning, and the wagon drove noisily up to the door. Rafael carriedout the steamer trunks and luggage, the snake-skins, the smoky opals, the Indian baskets, the braided quirts, and all the scattered plunderthat the cowboys had given Kitty and that she could not bear to leavebehind. He saddled up their horses, clattering recklessly into thebunk-house where Hardy was sleeping in order to get his blankets, andstill, unmindful of noise or preparation, or the friends who must saygood-bye, he lay sprawled on the rough blankets, dead with sleep. 

Rafael kicked off the brake and started on his weary journey aroundRed Butte to Moreno's, which would take him the rest of the day; JudgeWare, possessed to get out of the country before he became _particepscriminis_ to some lawless outrage, paced restlessly up and down the_ramada_, waiting for the girls to get ready; and Kitty and Lucy, glancing guiltily at each other, fidgeted around in their roomswaiting for Rufus to wake up. 

"I'm ready, " said Lucy at last, putting the final touches to the roomwhich he had given up to her. "Are you, Kitty?"

Their eyes met in an uneasy stare, each wishing the other wouldspeak. 

"Yes, " said Kitty, "but--shall we go without saying good-bye?"

"What in the world are you girls waiting for?" demanded the judge, thrusting his head impatiently in at the door. "I declare, I begin tothink there is something in these jokes about Adam waiting for Eve toget her hat on straight. Now please come at once or we won't get toMoreno's in time for supper. "

"But, father, " protested Lucy, "Kitty and I do not wish to leavewithout saying good-bye to Rufus. Would you mind--"

"No, no!" exclaimed Judge Ware irritably, "if he chooses to sleep allday--"

"But, father!" burst out Lucy, almost tearfully, "he was so tired--hefell asleep as soon as he sat down, and I never did get him to consentto be my superintendent! Don't you see--"

"Well, write him a note then, " directed the judge brusquely, "andleave it on his desk. Now, Lucy dear, really I'm getting so nervousI'm hardly accountable. _Please_ hurry. And, Kitty, please hurry, too!"

Like two souls haled from the world without a word of explanation orconfession, Kitty and Lucy both sat down under duress to pen a lastappeal to the little man who, despite his stern disregard, somehowheld a place in their hearts. Kitty could have wept with vexation atthe thought of not seeing him again--and after she had brought hermind to forgive him, too! She wrote blindly, she knew not what, whether it was accusation or entreaty, and sealed the envelope with abang of her tiny fist--and even then he did not awaken. Lucy wrotecarefully, wrestling to turn the implacable one from his purpose andyet feeling that he would have his will. She sealed her note and putit upon his desk hesitatingly; then, as Kitty turned away, shedropped her handkerchief beside it. It was a time-worn strategy, suchas only the innocent and guileless think of in their hour ofadversity. When she ran back to recover it Lucy drew a dainty bookfrom her bosom--Mrs. Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese"--andplaced it across her note as if to save it from the wind, and betweentwo leaves she slipped the forget-me-nots which he had given her atHidden Water. 

As the thud of horses' hoofs died away silence settled down upon theDos S ranch house, the sombre silence of the desert, unbroken by themurmur of women's voices or the echo of merry laughter, and thesleeping man stirred uneasily on his bed. An hour passed, and thenfrom the _ramada_ there came a sound of wailing. Hardy rose up on hisbed suddenly, startled. The memory of the past came to him vaguely, like fragments of an eerie dream; then the world came right and hefound himself in the bunk-house, alone--and Tommy outside, crying asif for the dead. Leaping up from his blankets Hardy opened the doorand called him in--hoarse, black, distorted, yet overflowing with loveand affection. Poor little Tommy! He took him in his arms to comforthim, and bedded him down on the pillow. But when he stepped outside hefound that his world too was vacant--the house deserted, the corralsempty, the _rodéo_ camp a smouldering fireplace, surrounded by awilderness of tin cans. 

As the slow grief of the forsaken came upon him he turned and went tohis room, where the atmosphere of womankind still lingered to suggestthe dear hands that were gone, and suddenly his eyes leaped to theletters left upon the table. It was Kitty's which he opened first, perhaps because it was nearest; but the torrent of inconsequentialwords confused him by their unreason and he turned to Lucy's, readingit over thoughtfully. 

 "DEAR RUFUS:

 "We have waited a long time for you to wake up, and now father says we must go. You were so tired last night that I doubt if you heard a word I said, although I thought I was making a great impression in my new role as a business woman. I asked father to give me the ranch, not because I wanted to own it but to save you from your madness. The cattle are all mine now and I leave them in your care. Whatever you do I will consent to, if you will leave your guns at home. Is that too much for a friend to ask? I know that Mr. Creede is your friend too, and I admire your devotion to his cause, but I think you can do just as much for him and more by not risking your life in a battle against the sheep. They are so many, Rufus, and they have their rights, too. Father is confident that the Forest Reserve will be declared next Winter and then the sheep will be debarred forever. Can't you give over the fight for my sake? And I will pay you any price--I will do anything you ask; but if you should be killed or kill some other man, I could never be happy again, though I gained the whole world. Dear Rufus, please--but I leave it for you to decide--"

The note ended abruptly, it was not even signed, and Hardy couldimagine the agitation in which it was written. Dear little Lucy, always thinking of others, always considerate, always honest andreasonable. If only Kitty--But no--in her own right as Queen of Loveand of his heart, she was above all criticism and blame. It was amadness, deeper than his anger against the sheep, mightier than hisfiercest resentment--he could not help it; he loved her. Changeable, capricious, untamed, she held him by her faults where virtues wouldhardly have sufficed in another. He had tried, and failed; so long asshe was in the world he must love her. But what a life! He cast theletter from him and his heart turned to Jeff and the big fight, thebattle that they had planned to wage together. In the rush andstruggle of that combat he could forget the pangs which tortured him;he could have his revenge on life, which had treated him so shabbily!And yet--and yet--could he desert a friend like Lucy--Lucy who wouldgive her life to make him happier, who had always by every act triedto make him forget his sorrows?

For a long time he sat with his head bowed, thinking. Then he rose upand took down his long-barrelled Colt's, fingered it lovingly, andthrust it, scabbard and all, into the depths of his war bag. 

As he rode down the hill into the camp that afternoon Creede came outto meet him, and when his eyes fell upon the empty belt, he smiledknowingly. 

"Well, you woke up, did you?" he inquired, laying one hand carelesslyon the bulge in Hardy's right shap, where modest cowboys sometimessecrete their guns. "Um-huh!" he grunted, slapping the left shap tomake sure. "I suspected as much. Well, I congratulate you, supe--if mygirl had asked me I reckon I'd've give up my gun too. But she gimme akiss, anyway, " he added, tossing his head triumphantly. 

"Who did?" demanded Hardy, coming suddenly out of his dream. 

"Why, Kitty, sure, " returned Creede artlessly; and then, noting thelook of incredulity on his partner's face, he slapped him on the legand laughed consumedly. 

"Oh, you're not the only pebble on the beach, " he cried. "Ump-um--thereare others! Say, it's hell to be in love, ain't it?"

He looked up at Hardy, the laughter still in his cheeks, but for oncethere was no answering smile. The large gray eyes were far away anddistant, fixed vacantly upon the dust cloud where the sheep gatheredin the east. Then, as if dismissing some haunting vision from hismind, the little man shook himself and drew away. 

"That's right, " he said solemnly, "it is. "

CHAPTER XVII

CHICO AND GRANDE

Between the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket and the cow camp at CarrizoCreek there lie three high ridges and three broad valleys, all runningnorth and south from the Peaks to Bronco Mesa--the heart of the upperrange; and there in compact bands the invaders held their sheep. Fromthe lower levels they strayed out gradually over the rocky mesa; abovethey clambered up toward the wooded peaks; but at night the sheepmenworked back to the three ridges and camped close together for defence. After many years of struggle they had at last obtained their legalrights--their sheep were up to the ears in grama, eating out the heartof the cow country--but Jeff Creede was just over the hill, and theMexicans were afraid. For years now the huge form of "Grande" hadloomed before them whenever they entered that forbidden range, andthey had always given way before him. And now he had the little manChico with him, the son of a soldier, so it was said, and a gentlemanof _categoría_; he always carried a pistol and his eyes were stern andhard. What would not Chico and Grande do to them, now that they werelike bees robbed of their long-hoarded honey, who have nothing leftbut their stings?

So the word passed around amongst the herders and camp rustlers, andJim and Jasp rode from one camp to the other, cursing and exhortingand holding them to their work. The hour of victory had come, buttheir triumph was poisoned by a haunting fear for their sheep. Onehundred thousand sheep--five hundred thousand dollars' worth--theaccumulation of a lifetime--and all in the hands of these cowardlyMexicans, not half of whom would fight! For the day or two that theyheld together they were safe, but when they spread out--and spreadthey must, to reach the western pass--then the cowmen could rush themat night like lions that raid a corral, scattering one band after theother, and the coyotes would do the rest! That was the joint in thearmor of the sheepmen, and it robbed them of their sleep. 

Evening came, and the fires of the camp rustlers on the ridges litup the dust cloud that hung in the east. The hateful bray of thesheep was hushed, at last, and the shrill yell of the coyotes rosefrom every hilltop, bidding farewell to the sun; for as vultures andunnumbered birds of prey hovered in the wake of barbarian armies, casting their dread shadows upon the living and glutting upon thedead, so the coyotes follow tirelessly after the sheep, gorgingupon chance carcasses and pulling down the strays. As the wild, gibbering chorus rose and quavered back from the cliffs the cowmen atCarrizo glanced up from their supper and swore, and in the generalpreoccupation Hardy put down his plate and slipped away to thecorral. He was sitting on the fence listening to the mad yelping ofthe coyotes and watching the shadows gather among the peaks, whenCreede strolled over and joined him. There were times when he couldread Hardy like a book, but at others the little man's thoughts werehidden, and he brooded by himself. On such occasions, after asufficient interval, Jeff esteemed it his duty to break in uponthese unprofitable ruminations and bring him back to the light. Sohe clambered up on the top log and joined in the contemplation ofnature. 

"Hear them dam' coyotes, " he observed sociably. "They'd cry that wayif they'd had a chicken dinner, all around. I bet ye every one of 'emhas got wool in his teeth, right now. Never you mind, birdie, " hecontinued, apostrophizing a peculiarly shrill-voiced howler, "I'llgive you a bellyful of mutton pretty soon, if it's the last act. What_you_ going to do now, Rufe?"

"Well, " answered Hardy, "I think I'll try and earn my salary by movinga few sheep. And of course we want to gather every beef critter wecan now, while they're fat. The sheep seem to be hugging the mountainpretty close. What's the matter with working the Pocket Butteto-morrow and while the boys are riding we'll warn all the stragglersdown there to keep up against the hills; then as soon as we get 'emlocated we'll jump in some day and move 'em!"

"Huh?" inquired Creede, shoving back his hat and staring. "Did I hearyou say 'move 'em'? Well--er--I thought you left your gun at home, " hesuggested guardedly. 

"That's right, " admitted Hardy, "but don't you let that worry you any. I told you I'd help move those sheep, and I'll do it! We don't needguns, anyhow. Why, I'd just as soon tackle a rattlesnake bare-handedas go after Jasp Swope with my six-shooter. That's just what he'slooking for, boy, with all those thirty-thirties behind him, and he'llhave plenty of witnesses there to swear us into Yuma, too. I tell you, Jeff, I've been thinking this over, and I believe my boss is right. "

"Sure, " said Creede, showing his teeth in the twilight. 

"Say, let up on that, will you?" exclaimed Hardy irritably. "I'mtalking business. Now you let me tell you something. " He paused, andfixed his eye on the dust cloud, intently. "I've moved that manysheep twice, " he said, throwing out his hand, "and I left my gun athome. "

"That's right, " conceded Creede. 

"Well now, I'll tell you what I'll do, " continued Hardy. "If you'llleave your gun at home too and stay with me on this I'll undertake toshoot the last sheep out through West Pass inside of a week. And theonly chance we take is of getting shot at or arrested for assault andbattery. The Territorial Prison end of this gun business never didappeal me, anyway. "

"No--nor me either! But what's the scheme?"

The big cowboy leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing as he halfguessed the plan. 

"We ride out together, " said Hardy, his voice far away, as if he sawit in his mind's eye, "unarmed--and we notify every sheep-herder wesee to move. If Jasp Swope or any of his men kill us while we'reunarmed it'll be cold-blooded murder, and there'll be witnesses toprove it. And if the sheep don't move, _we'll move 'em_! What kind ofa crime is that, anyway--to drive sheep off the public range? Thereisn't an officer of the law within sixty miles, anyhow; and if anybodypulls a gun on us we can slug him in self-defence. "

"Sure, " agreed Creede, "but suppose one of them big-headed ChihuahuaMexicans should happen to shoot you?"

"Well then, I'd be dead, " said Hardy soberly. "But wouldn't you ratherbe dead than shut up in that hell-hole down at Yuma?"

"Yes!" cried Creede, holding out his hands as if taking an oath. "Iwould, by God!"

"Well, come on then!" said Hardy, and they shook hands on it likebrothers. 

When the _rodéo_ outfit was gathered together in the morning JeffersonCreede deliberately unstrapped his cartridge belt and threw his pistolback onto his bed. Then he winked at his partner as if, rightlyunderstood, the action was in the nature of a joke, and led the way toPocket Butte. 

"You fellows rake the ridges to Bullpit Valley, " he said, brieflyassigning every man to his post. "Rufe 'n me'll hold 'em up for youabout four o'clock, but don't rush the funeral--we're goin' to move afew sheep first. "

He smiled mysteriously as he spoke, staving off their pointed querieswith equivocal answers. 

"See you later, " he observed, turning his horse into a sheep trail, and with that the outfit was forced to be content. 

The offending sheep were found feeding along the eastern slope of along ridge that led down from the upper ground, and the herderswere camped on the summit. There were four men gathered about the fireand as the cowboys approached three of them picked up their carbinesand sat off to one side, fingering the locks nervously. Theappearance of Jeff Creede spelled trouble to all sheepmen andthere were few camps on Bronco Mesa which did not contain a herderwho had been unceremoniously moved by him. But this time thefire-eating cowman rode grandly into camp without any awe-inspiringdemonstrations whatever. 

"Are those your sheep?" he inquired, pointing to the grazing herd. 

"_Sí señor_, " responded the boss herder humbly. 

"Very well, " said Creede, "move 'em, and move 'em quick. I give youthree days to get through that pass. " He stretched a heavily muscledarm very straight toward the notch in the western hills and turnedabruptly away. Hardy swung soberly in behind him and the frightenedChihuahuanos were beginning to breathe again after their excitementwhen suddenly Jeff stopped his horse. 

"Say, " he said, turning to the boss, "what you carryin' that cow'shorn for?"

At this pointed inquiry the boss herder flinched and looked downcast, toying uneasily with the primitive instrument at his side. 

"To blow, " he answered evasively. 

"Well, go ahead and blow it, then, " suggested Creede amiably. "No--goon! _I_ don't care what happens. Aw here, let me have it a minute!"

He grabbed the horn away impatiently, wiped the mouthpiece with hissleeve, drew a long breath, and blew. A deep bass roar answered to hiseffort, a bellow such as the skin-clad hunters of antiquity sent forthwhen they wound the horn for their hounds, and the hills and valleysof Carrizo and the upper mesa echoed to the blast. 

"Say, that's great!" exclaimed the big cowboy, good-naturedlyresisting the appeals of the herder. "I used to have one like thatwhen I was a boy. Oh, I'm a blower, all right--listen to this, now!"He puffed out his chest, screwed his lips into the horn, and blewagain, loud and long. 

"How's that for high?" he inquired, glancing roguishly at his partner. "And I could keep it up all day, " he added, handing the horn back, "only I've got business elsewhere. "

"_Oyez, amigo_, " he said, bending his brow suddenly upon the Mexicanherder, "remember, now--in three days!" He continued the sentence by acomprehensive sweep of the hand from that spot out through thewestern pass, favored each of the three Chihuahuanos with an abhorrentscowl, and rode slowly away down the hogback. 

"Notice anything funny over on that ridge?" he asked, jerking his headcasually toward the east. "That's Swope and Co. --the Sheepmen'sProtective Association--coming over to rescue _companero_. " A line ofrapidly moving specks proved the truth of his observation, andCreede's shoulders shook with laughter as he noted their killingpace. 

"I tumbled to the idee the minute I set eyes on that cow's horn, " hesaid. "It's like this. Every boss herder has a horn; if he gits intotrouble he blows it and all hands come a-runnin' to shoot holes in Mr. Cowman--think I'll make one myself. "

He halted behind a rock and scrutinized the approaching horsemen overthe top. 

"That's Jasp, in front, " he observed impersonally. "I wouldn't mindownin' that black mule of his'n, neither. We'll jest wait until theydip down into the cañon and then double in back of him, and scare upthem _hombres_ over at the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket. We want to git'em started out of that. I believe you're right, though, Rufe--we canrun this bunch out without firin' a shot. "

That evening after the day's riding Creede sat down on his heels bythe fire and heated the end of an iron rod. In his other hand he helda horn, knocked from the bleaching skeleton of a steer that had diedby the water, and to its end where the tip had been sawed off heapplied the red-hot iron, burning a hole through to the hollowcentre. 

"Jim, " he said, turning to one of the Clark boys, "do you want alittle excitement to-morrow? Well then, you take this old horn and goplay hide 'n' seek with Jasp. Keep him chasin', and while the rest ofthe boys are gatherin' cattle Rufe and me will move a few sheep. "

"Well, say, " broke in Ben Reavis impatiently, "where do us fellerscome in on this play? I thought there was goin' to be a few shaplessons and a little night work. "

"Well, " responded the _rodéo_ boss philosophically, "any time youfellers want to go up against them thirty-thirties you can do so. It'syour own funeral, and I'll promise to do the honors right. But I'm alaw-abidin' cuss myself. I'm all the law now, ever since I talked withJim Swope--it's the greatest graft they is. "

He paused, busily scraping his horn with a piece of glass. 

"They's no doubt about it, fellers, " he said at last, "we've been slowin the head. It's a wonder we ain't all of us makin' hat bands inYuma, by this time. I used to think that if you didn't like asheepman's looks the way to do was to wade in and work him over alittle; but that's a misdemeanor, and it don't go now. It took as gooda man as Rufe, here, to put me wise; but I leave my gun in camp afterthis. I've got them Greasers buffaloed, anyhow, and Jasp knows if heplugs me when I'm unarmed it'll be a sure shot for the pen. The timemay come when guns is necessary, but I move that every man leave hissix-shooter in his bed and we'll go after 'em with our bare hands. What d' ye say, Ben?"

Ben Reavis rose up on one elbow, rolled his eyes warily, and passed ajet of tobacco juice into the hissing fire. 

"Not f'r me, " he said, with profane emphasis. 

"No, ner f'r me, either, " chimed in Charley Clark. "A man stays dead along time in this dry climate. "

"Well, you fellers see how many of my steers you can ketch, then, "said Creede, "and I'll move them sheep myself--leastways, me andRufe. "

"All right, " assented Reavis resignedly, "but you want to hurry up. Isaw a cloud o' dust halfway to Hidden Water this afternoon. "

The next morning as the _rodéo_ outfit hustled out to pick up whatcattle they could before they were scattered by the sheep, Jim Clark, tall, solemn-faced, and angular, rode by devious ways toward theeastern shoulder of the Four Peaks, where a distant clamor told of thegreat herds which mowed the mountain slopes like a thousand sickles. Having seen him well on his way Creede and Hardy galloped down thecañon, switched off along the hillside and, leaving their horses amongthe rocks, climbed up on a rocky butte to spy out the land below. Highridges and deep cañons, running down from the flanks of the FourPeaks, lay to the east and north and west; and to the south theymerged into the broad expanse of Bronco Mesa. 

There it lay, a wilderness of little hills and valleys, flat-toppedbenches and sandy gulches threaded minutely with winding trails andcow paths, green with the illusion of drought-proof giant cactus andvivid desert bushes, one vast preserve of browse and grass from thePeaks to the gorge of the Salagua. Here was the last battle-ground, the last stand of the cowmen against the sheep, and then unless thatformless myth, "The Government, " which no man had ever seen or known, stepped in, there would be no more of the struggle; the green mesawould be stripped of its evanescent glory and the sheep would wanderat will. But as long as there was still a chance and the cows hadyoung calves that would die, there was nothing for it but to fight on, warily and desperately, to the end. 

As Jefferson Creede looked out across that noble landscape which hehad struggled so resolutely to save and saw the dust clouds of thesheep drifting across it, the tears came to his eyes and blinded hiskeen vision. Here at last was the end of all his struggles and all hisdreams; another year, or two years, and the mesa would be devastatedutterly; his cows would be hollow-flanked and gaunted; his calveswould totter and die, their tender lips pierced with the spiny cactusupon which their hard-mouthed mothers starved; and all that fair landwhich he knew and loved so well would be lost to him forever. Heraised his hand to his eyes as if shading them from the sun, andbrushed the tears away. 

"Well, look at those sons o' guns hike, " he said, baring his teethvenomously, "and every band headed for Hidden Water! Go it, youtarriers--and if you can't stop to eat the grass, tromple on it! Butwait, and if I don't push in some Greaser's face to-day it'll bebecause every one of them bands is headin' for the western pass. "

He clambered slowly down from his perch and swung up into the saddle. 

"Talkin' never did do much good with a sheep-herder, " he observedwisely. "As the old judge used to say, 'you've got to appeal to hisbetter nature'--with a club. "

The most southerly of the seven bands was strung out in marchingorder, the goats in front, the hungriest sheep in the lead; and onboth flanks and far behind, the groups and clusters of feeders, pushing out into the grassy flats and rearing up against the trees andbushes. Without a word to the herders Creede and Hardy took down theirropes and, swinging the _hondas_ upon the goats, turned the advanceguard northwest. The main herd and the drag followed, and then theherders, all in a bunch for courage. 

"This is the last time I talk to you, " said Creede, his voice stifledwith anger. "Turn to the north, now, and keep a-goin'. "

He put spurs to his horse and rode west to the second herd, and bynoon they had turned all seven toward the western pass. Every herderhad his cow's horn and some of them were blowing continually, but noone answered, and a messenger was sent east for aid. They camped forthe heat of the day, making smoke upon the ridges, but no help came. As the sun sank low and the curly-necked Merinos rose up from theirhuddle and began to drift the Mexicans turned them perforce to thenorth, looking back sulkily toward the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocketwhere other smokes rose against the sky. Until the sun set theytravelled, making their three miles and more, and not until they hadcorralled their flocks for the night did Chico and Grande, the littleand big terrors of the sheep, give way from their strenuous labors. 

It was two hours after dark when they rode wearily into the camp atCarrizo Creek. The fire was dying down to embers and the _rodéo_outfit, worn out, had turned in, some in the tin house, othersoutside, under the brush _ramada_ to escape the dew. No one moved asthey approached but Creede did not scruple to wake up Jim Clark inorder to learn the news. 

"How'd the old horn work?" he inquired cheerily. 

"No good, " grunted Clark, rolling over. 

"Aw, go on, wouldn't they chase ye?"

"Nope. Nothin' doin'. Say, lemme sleep, will ye?"

"Sure, " said Creede, "when I git through with you. Which way was themsheep travellin'?"

"Well, some was goin' straight up over the Four Peaks and the rest wasp'intin' west. You and your old horn--I nigh blowed my fool head offand never got a rise! They was all blowin' them horns over by thePocket this aft. "

"Um, " said Creede, "they was _all_ blowin', hey? And what else wasthey doin'?"

"Shootin', fer further orders, and driftin' their sheep. They's abouta hundred thousand, right over the hill. "

"Huh!" grunted Creede, turning to his belated dinner, "what d'ye makeof that, Rufe?"

"Nothing, " replied Hardy, "except more work. "

It seemed as if he had hardly fallen asleep when Creede was up again, hurling the wood on the fire. 

"Pile out, fellers!" he shouted. "You can sleep all day bimebye. Comeon, Rufe--d'ye want to find them sheep in the corral when you go backto Hidden Water?" And so with relentless energy he roused them up, divided out the work, and was off again for Bronco Mesa. 

It was early when they arrived at the first deserted sheep camp, butsearch as they would they could see no signs of the sheep. The punyfire over which the herders had fried their bread and mutton waswind-blown and cold, the burros and camp rustlers were gone, and therewas no guiding dust cloud against the sky. From the little butte whereCreede and Hardy stood the lower mesa stretched away before them likea rocky, cactus-covered plain, the countless ravines and gulcheshidden by the dead level of the benches, and all empty, lifeless, void. They rode for the second camp, farther to the west, and it toowas deserted, the sheep tracks cunningly milled in order to hide thetrail. 

"They're gittin' foxy, " commented Creede, circling wide to catch thetrend of their departure, "but I bet you money no bunch of ChihuahuaGreasers can hide twenty thousand sheep in my back yard and me notknow it. And I'll bet you further that I can find every one of themsheep and have 'em movin' before twelve o'clock, noon. "

Having crystallized his convictions into this sporting proposition the_rodéo_ boss left the wilderness of tracks and headed due south, riding fast until he was clear of sheep signs. 

"Now here's where I cut all seven trails, " he remarked to hispartner. "I happen to know where this sheep outfit is headin' for. "With which enigmatic remark he jerked a thumb toward Hidden Water andcircled to the west and north. Not half an hour later he picked up afresh trail, a broad path stamped hard by thousands of feet, andspurring recklessly along it until he sighted the herd he plungedhelter-skelter into their midst, where they were packed like sardinesin the broad pocket of a dry wash. 

"Hey there! _Whoopee--hep--hep!_" he yelled, ploughing his way intothe pack; and Hardy swinging quickly around the flank, rushed the ruckof them forward in his wake. Upon the brow of the hill the boss herderand his helpers brandished their carbines and shouted, but their wordswere drowned in the blare and bray which rose from below. Shoot theydared not, for it meant the beginning of a bloody feud, and theirwarnings were unheeded in the _mêlée_. The herd was far up the washand galloping wildly toward the north before the frantic Mexicanscould catch up with it on foot, and even then they could do nothingbut run along the wings to save themselves from a "cut. " More thanonce, in the night-time, the outraged cowmen of the Four Peaks countryhad thus dashed through their bands, scattering them to the wolves andthe coyotes, destroying a year's increase in a night, while theherders, with visions of shap lessons before them, fired perfunctoryrifle shots at the moon. It was a form of reprisal that they likedleast of all, for it meant a cut, and a cut meant sheep wanderingaimlessly without a master until they became coyote bait--at the rateof five dollars a head. 

The _padron_ was a kind man and called them _compadres_, when he waspleased, but if one of them suffered a cut he cursed, and fired him, and made him walk back to town. Hence when Chico and Grande suddenlygave over their drive and rode away to the northwest the Mexicanherders devoted all their attention to keeping the herd together, without trying to make any gun plays. And when the stampede was abatedand still no help came they drifted their sheep steadily to thenorth, leaving the camp rustlers to bring up the impedimenta as bestthey could. Jasper Swope had promised to protect them whenever theyblew their horns, but it was two days since they had seen him, and thetwo _Americanos_ had harried them like hawks. 

Never had armed men so lacked a leader as on that day. Their orderswere to shoot only in self-defence; for a war was the last thing whichthe Swope brothers wanted, with their entire fortunes at stake, and noshow of weapons could daunt the ruthless Grande and Chico. All themorning the cow horns bellowed and blared as, sweating and swingingtheir _hondas_, the stern-eyed _Americanos_ rushed band after bandaway. Not a word was passed--no threats, no commands, no warnings forthe future, but like avenging devils they galloped from one herd tothe other and back again, shoving them forward relentlessly, even inthe heat of noon. At evening the seven bands, hopelessly mixed andmingled in the panic, were halfway through the long pass, and theherders were white with dust and running. But not until dusk gatheredin the valleys did Creede rein in his lathered horse and turn grimlyback to camp. 

His face was white and caked with dust, the dirt lay clotted in hisbeard, and only the whites of his eyes, rolling and sanguinary, gaveevidence of his humanity; his shirt, half torn from his body byplunging through the cat-claws, hung limp and heavy with sweat; andthe look of him was that of a madman, beside himself with rage. Thedirt, the sweat, the grime, were as heavy on Hardy, and his eyesrolled like a negro's beneath the mask of dust, but weariness hadovercome his madness and he leaned forward upon the horn. They glancedat each other indifferently and then slumped down to endure the longten miles which lay between them and home. It had been a stern fightand the excitement had lulled their hunger, but now the old, slow panggnawed at their vitals and they rolled like drunkards in the saddle. 

It was a clear, velvety night, and still, after the wind of the day. Their horses jogged dumbly along, throwing up their heads at everystep from weariness, and the noises of the night fell dully upon theirjaded ears. But just as they turned into Carrizo Creek Cañon, Creedesuddenly reined in old Bat Wings and held up his hand to Hardy. 

"Did you hear that?" he asked, still listening. "There! Didn't youhear that gun go off? Well, I did--and it was a thirty-thirty, too, over there toward the Pocket. "

"Those herders are always shooting away their ammunition, " said Hardypeevishly. "Come on, let's get back to camp. "

"They don't shoot in the night-time, though, " grumbled Creede, leadingoff again. "I'll bet ye some of them Greasers has seen a ghost. Say, "he cried, "the boys may be out doin' some night ridin'!"

But when they rode into camp every man was in his blankets. 

"Hey, what's all that shootin' goin' on over there?" he called, wakingup the entire outfit in his excitement. 

"Sheepmen, " responded some sleeper briefly. 

"Cleanin' their guns, mebbe, " suggested another, yawning. "Did youmove 'em, Jeff?"

"You betcher neck!" replied Creede promptly, "and I'm goin' back inthe mornin', too. "

The morning turned black, and flushed rosy, and fell black again, butfor once the merciless driver of men slept on, for he was over-weary. It was a noise, far away, plaintive, insistent, which finally broughthim to his feet--the bleating of ewes to lambs, of lambs to mothers, of wethers to their fellows, beautiful in itself as the greatelemental sounds of the earth, the abysmal roarings of winds and wavesand waterfalls, but to the cowman hateful as the clamors of hell. AsCreede stood in his blankets, the salt sweat of yesterday still in hiseyes, and that accursed blat in his ears, his nerves gave waysuddenly, and he began to rave. As the discordant babel drew nearerand nearer his passion rose up like a storm that has been longbrewing, his eyes burned, his dirty face turned ghastly. Grabbing uphis six-shooter he stood like a prophet of destruction calling downthe wrath of God Himself, if there was a God, upon the head of everysheepman. But even as he cursed the first dirty brown wave spewed inover the ridge and swept down upon their valley. Then in a moment hismadness overcame him and, raising his heavy pistol, he emptied itagainst them defiantly, while the resounding cliffs took up his wrathand hurled it back. A herder with his rifle leapt up on a distant rockand looked toward their camp, and at the sight the black anger ofJeff's father came upon him, filling him with the lust to kill. 

He rushed into the house and came out with a high-power rifle. "You _will_ stand up there and laugh at me, will you?" he said, deliberately raising the sights. "You--"

He rested the rifle against one of the _ramada_ posts, and caught hisbreath to aim, while the cowmen regarded him cynically, yet with acold speculation in their eyes. Hardy alone sprang forward to spoilhis aim, and for a minute they bandied words like pistol shots as theystruggled for the gun. Then with a last wailing curse, the big cowboysnapped the cartridge out of his rifle and handed it over to hispartner. 

"You're right, " he said, "let the dastard live. But if I ever gitanother chanst at Jasp Swope I'll kill him, if I swing for it! He'sthe boy I'm lookin' for, but you see how he dodges me? I've beenmovin' his sheep for two days! He's afraid of me--he's afraid to comeout and fight me like a man! But I'll git 'im--I'll git 'im yet!"

"All right, " said Hardy soothingly, "you can do it, for all of me. Butdon't go to shooting Mexicans off of rocks as if they were turkeybuzzards--that's what gets people into the pen. Now, you just take myadvice for once and wash some of that dirt off your face. You'relocoed, man--you're not a human being--and you won't be until you washup and get your belly full. "

Half an hour later they sat down to breakfast, the burly fightinganimal and the man who had taught him reason; and as they ate thefierce anger of the cowboy passed away like mists before the morningsun. He heaped his plate up high and emptied it again, drinking coffeefrom his big cup, and as if ashamed of his brutishness he beganforthwith to lay out a campaign of peace. With sheep scurrying inevery direction across the range in the great drive that was now onit was no use to try to gather cows. What they had they could day-herdand the rest would have to wait. The thing to do now was to protectthe feed around the water, so that the cattle would not have to travelso far in the heat of summer. No objection being offered he gave eachman a watercourse to patrol, sending one over into the Pocket to seewhat had happened to Bill Johnson; and then, with his gun packed inhis bed, he started back with Hardy to watch over Hidden Water. 

The sun was well up as they topped the high ridge; and the mesa, though ploughed through and through by the trails of the hurryingsheep, still shimmered in its deceptive green. Not for a month hadthere been a cloud in the sky and the grass on the barren places wasalready withering in the heat, yet in the distance the greasewood andthe _palo verdes_ and giant cactus blended into one mighty sheet ofverdure. Only on the ground where the feed should be were there signsof the imminent drought; and where the sheep had crossed the groundlay hard and baked or scuffled into dust. In the presence of thoseswift destroyers the dreaded _año seco_ had crept in upon themunnoticed, but soon it would scourge the land with heat and dust andfailing waters, and cattle lowing to be fed. And there before theireyes, clipping down the precious grass, tearing up the tender plants, shearing away the browse, moved the sheep; army after army, phalanxand cohort, drifting forward irresistibly, each in its cloud of dust. For a minute the two men sat gazing hopelessly; then Creede leanedforward in his saddle and sighed. 

"Well, " he observed philosophically, "they're movin', anyhow. "

They rode down the long slope and, mounting a low roll, paused againapathetically to watch a band of sheep below. 

"Say, " exclaimed Creede, his eyes beginning to burn, "d'ye notice howthem sheep are travellin'? And look at them other bands back yonder!By Joe!" he cried, rising in his stirrups, "we've got 'em goin'! Lookat the dust out through the pass, and clean to Hell's Hip Pocket. They're hikin', boy, they're hittin' it up for The Rolls! But what inthe world has struck 'em?"

He stood up straight in his saddle, swinging his head from east towest, but no band of horsemen met his eye. He looked again at theflock below him--the goats, forever in the lead, heading straight forthe western pass; the herders swinging their carbines upon thedrag--and seemed to study upon the miracle. 

"Have you got any money to spare, Rufe?" he inquired quietly. 

"Sure, " responded Hardy. 

"Well, then, " said Creede deliberately, "I'd like to make you asporting proposition. I'll bet you forty dollars to the price of adrink that old Bill Johnson has been shootin' up their camps. Will yougo me? All right, and I'll make you a little side bet: I'll bet youany money that Jim Swope has lost some sheep!"

He spurred his horse recklessly down the hill, grinning, and at theclatter of rocks the fearful herders jumped forward and raised a greatclamor behind their sheep, whistling and clubbing their guns, but theheart of the monster Grande was no longer turned to wrath. He laughedand called out to them, leaping his horse playfully over washouts andwaving his black hat. 

"_Cuidado, hombres_, " he shouted, "be careful--do not hurry--look atthe nice grass!" But despite this friendly admonition the herdersstill yelled and whistled at their sheep, jabbing them spitefully withthe sharp muzzles of their rifles until at last, all riot andconfusion, they fled away bleating into the west. 

CHAPTER XVIII

BAD BLOOD

The sheep were on the run, drifting across Bronco Mesa as if the devilwas after them, and Creede could hardly stay on his horse fromlaughing--but when he drew near to Hidden Water his face changed. There was a fresh sheep trail in the cañon and it led away from theranch. He spurred forward like the wind, his eyes upon the tracks, andwhen he came in sight of the house he threw down his hat and swore. Ofall the God-forsaken places in Arizona, the Dos S Ranch was the worst. The earth lay bare and desolate before it; the woodpile haddisappeared; the bucket was thrown down the well. Never had the flat, mud buildings seemed so deserted or Tommy so tragic in his welcome. The pasture gate was down and even that holy of holies, the brandingcorral, stunk of sheep. Only the padlocked house had been respected, and that perforce, since nothing short of a sledgehammer could breakits welded chain. 

Unfastening the battered door they entered the living-room which oncehad been all light and laughter. There lay the dishes all clean andorderly on the table, the floors swept, the beds made, some witheredflowers on Hardy's desk. 

"Huh, " grunted Creede, looking it over coldly, "we're on the bum, allright, all right, now. How long since they went away?"

"'Bout a year, " replied Hardy, and his partner did not contradicthim. 

They cooked a hasty meal and ate it, putting the scraps in thefrying-pan for Tommy. 

"Go to it, Tom, " said Creede, smiling wistfully as the cat lapped awayat the grease. "He never could git used to them skirts rustlin' roundhere, could he?" And then there was a long silence. 

Tommy sat up and washed his face contentedly, peering about withintent yellow eyes and sniffing at the countless odors with which hisworld was filled--then suddenly with a low whining growl he lashedacross the room like a tiger and leapt up into his cat hole. This wasa narrow tunnel, punched through the adobe wall near the door andboxed in with a projecting cribbing to keep out the snakes and skunks. Through it when his protectors were away he could escape the rush ofpursuing coyotes, or sally forth with equal ferocity when sheep dogswere about. He peered out of his porthole for a moment, warily, thenhis stump tail began to twitch, he worked his hind claws into thewood, and leapt. A yelp of terror from the _ramada_ heralded hissuccess and Creede ran like a boy to look. 

"He's jumped one, by Joe!" he exclaimed. "What did I tell ye--that catis a holy terror on dogs!"

The dog in question--a slinking, dispirited cur--wagged its tailapologetically from a distance, shaking its bloody ears, while Tommyswelled and hissed viciously at him from his stronghold. It was asheep dog, part collie, part shepherd, and the rest plain yellow--afriendly little dog, too, and hungry. But the heart of Creede, ordinarily so tender, was hardened by his disasters. 

"Git out of here!" he commanded roughly. "Git, you yap, or I'll burnyou up with a bullet!

"This is what comes of leavin' your gun off, " he grumbled, as heunbound his bed and grabbed up his pistol. But as he stepped out intothe open to shoot, his barbarity was checked by a clatter of hoofsand, looking up, he saw Jasper Swope on his big black mule, amblingtruculently in across the open. 

"Hyar!" he shouted, shaking his fist angrily, "don't you shoot my dog, you--or I'll be the death of ye!"

"Oh, I don't know, " responded Creede, bristling back at him. "Keep theblame pup away, then--and keep that other dog away, too, or my cat'lleat 'im up! Well, I notice you took the occasion to come down andsheep me out, " he observed, as Swope pulled up before the door. 

"I _did_ not, " retorted the sheepman promptly, but grinningnevertheless at the damage, "but I see some other feller has though, and saved me the trouble. " He ran his eye approvingly over thedevastated homestead; and then, rising in his stirrups, he plungedsuddenly into his set speech. 

"I've took a lot off'n you, Jeff Creede, " he shouted, swinging hisarms wildly, "but I've got a bellyful of this night work! And I comedown to tell you that next time you shoot up one of my camps there'llbe trouble!"

"I never shot up your old camp, " growled Creede, "nor any other camp. I'm dam' glad to hear that somebody else did though, " he addedvindictively, "and I hope to God he fixed you good and proper. Nowwhat can I do for you, Mr. Swope?" he inquired, thrusting out hischin. "I suppose you must be hurryin' on, of course. "

"No!" cried Swope, slapping his saddle horn vehemently. "I come downhere to git some satisfaction out of you! My sheep has been killed andmy men has been intimidated on this here public range, and I want totell you right now, Mr. Creede, that this funny business has got tostop!"

"Well, don't choke!" said the cowman, fingering his gun coldly. "Goahead and stop it, why don't you?"

He paused, a set smile on his lips, and for a moment their eyes met inthe baleful glare which rival wolves, the leaders of their packs, confer upon each other. Then Hardy stepped out into the open, holdingup his hand for peace. 

"You are mistaken, Mr. Swope, " he said quietly. "Jeff hasn't shot upany camps--he hasn't even packed a gun for the last three days. "

"Oh, he hain't, hey?" sneered the sheepman, showing his jagged teeth. "He seems to have one now. "

"You betcher neck I have, " cried Creede, flaring up at the implication, "and if you're lookin' for trouble, Jasp Swope, you can open up anytime. "

"W'y what's the matter with you?" protested Swope righteously. "Youmust have somethin' on your mind, the way you act. "

Then without waiting for a reply to this innuendo he turned hisattention to Hardy. 

"He hain't shot up any camps, " he repeated, "ner packed a gun forthree days, hey? Now here's where I prove you a liar, Mr. Smarty. Iseen him with my own eyes take six shots at one of my herders thisvery mornin'--_and you was there!_"

He punctuated his speech by successive downward jabs of his grimyforefinger as if he were stabbing his adversary to the heart, andHardy turned faint and sick with chagrin. Never had he hated a man ashe hated this great, overbearing brute before him--this man-beast, with his hairy chest and freckled hands that clutched at him like anape's. Something hidden, a demon primordial and violent, rose up inhim against this crude barbarian with his bristling beard and gloatingpig eyes, and he forgot everything but his own rage at being trapped. 

"You lie!" he cried passionately; and then in his anger he added aword which he had never used, a word which goes deep under the skinand makes men fight. 

For a moment the sheepman sat staring, astounded by his vehemence; butbefore he could move the sudden silence was split by the yelp of adog--a wild, gibbering yelp that made them jump and bristle likehounds that are assailed from behind--and, mingling stridently withit, was the harsh snarl of a cat. There was a swift scramble in thedust by the door, an oath from the sheepman, and the yellow dog dashedaway again, with Tommy at his heels. 

Creede was the first man to regain his nerve and, seeing his pettriumphant, he let out a whoop of derisive laughter. 

"Ah-hah-hah!" he hollered, pointing with his pistol hand, "look atthat, will ye--_look_ at 'im--_yee-pah_--go after 'im, Tommy--we'llshow the--"

The fighting blood of the sheepman sided in as quickly with his dog. 

"I'll kill that dam' cat!" he yelled, swinging down from his saddle, "if you don't let up! Hey, Nip! Sick 'im!" He turned and motioned tohis other dog, which had been standing dumbly by, and instantly hejoined in the chase. "Sick 'em, boy, _sick 'em_!" he bellowed, urginghim on, and before Creede could get his face straight the long, rangybrindle had dashed up from behind and seized Tommy by the back. 

"Git out o' that!" thundered the cowman; and then, without waiting onwords, he threw his gun down on the dog and fired. 

"Here--none of that, now!" shouted Swope, whipping out his own pistol, and as he leapt forward he held it out before him like a sabre, pointed straight for the cowman's ribs. His intentions may have beenof the best, but Hardy did not wait to see. The brindle dog let out asurprised yelp and dropped. Before Creede could turn to meet his enemyhis partner leapt in between them and with a swift blow from theshoulder, struck the sheepman to the ground. 

It was a fearful blow, such as men deal in anger without measuringtheir strength or the cost, and it landed on his jaw. Creede had seenmen slugged before, in saloon rows and the rough fights that takeplace around a town, but never had he seen a single blow suffice--theman's head go back, his knees weaken, and his whole body collapse asif he had been shot. If he had been felled like a bull in the shamblesthat goes down in spite of his great strength, Jasper Swope could nothave been more completely stunned. He lay sprawling, his legs turnedunder him, and the hand that grasped the six-shooter relaxed slowlyand tumbled it into the dust. 

For a minute the two partners stood staring at each other, the onestill planted firmly on his feet like a boxer, the other with hissmoking pistol in his hand. 

"By Joe, boy, " said Creede slowly, "you was just in time that trip. "He stepped forward and laid the fallen man out on his back, passinghis gun up to Hardy as he did so. 

"I wonder if you killed him, " he muttered, feeling Jasp's bull neck;and then, as Hardy ran for some water, he remembered Tommy. But therewas no Tommy--only a little heap of fur lying very still out in theopen. 

"My God!" he cried, and leaving the man he ran out and knelt downbeside it. 

"Pussy!" he whispered, feeling hopelessly for his heart; and then, gathering the forlorn little wisp of fur in his arms, he hurried intothe house without a word. 

He was still in hiding when Jasper Swope came to and sat up, his hairdrenched with water and matted with dirt. Staring doubtfully at theset face of Hardy he staggered to his feet; then the memory of thefight came back to him and he glared at him with a drunkard'sinsolence. 

"Where's my gun?" he demanded, suddenly clapping his hand upon theempty holster. 

"I'll take care of that for you, " answered Hardy pointedly. "Now youpile onto that mule of yours and pull your freight, will you?" He ledthe black mule up close and boosted its master into the saddle, butSwope was not content. 

"Where's that dastard, Jeff Creede?" he demanded. "Well, I wanter seehim, that's all. And say, Mr. Smart Alec, I want that gun, too, see?"

"Well, you won't get it, " said Hardy. 

"I will that, " declared Swope, "'nd I'll git you, too, Willie, beforeI git through with you. I've had enough of this monkey business. Nowgimme that gun, I tell ye, or I'll come back with more of 'em and takeit!"

He raised his voice to a roar, muffled to a beast-like hoarseness byhis swollen jaws, and the _ramada_ reverberated like a cavern as hebellowed out his challenge. Then the door was snatched violently openand Jefferson Creede stepped forth, looking black as hell itself. Inone hand he held the sheepman's pistol and in the other his own. 

"Here!" he said, and striding forward he thrust Swope's gun into hishand. "It's loaded, too, " he added. "Now, you--if you've got anyshootin' to do, go to it!"

He stepped back quickly and stood ready, his masterful eyes bent uponhis enemy in a scowl of unquenchable hate. Once before they had facedeach other, waiting for that mysterious psychic prompting withoutwhich neither man nor beast can begin a fight, and Jim had stepped inbetween--but Hardy stood aside without a word. It was a show-down and, bulldog fighter though he was, Jasper Swope weakened. The anger of hisenemy overcame his hostile spirit without a blow, and he turned hispistol away. 

"That's all I wanted, " he said, shoving the gun sullenly into itsholster. "They's two of you, and--"

"And you're afraid, " put in Creede promptly. He stood gazing at thedowncast sheepman, his lip curling contemptuously. 

"I've never seen a sheepman yet, " he said, "that would fight. You'velistened to that blat until it's a part of ye; you've run with themMexicans until you're kin to 'em; you're a coward, Jasp Swope, and Ialways knowed it. " He paused again, his eyes glowing with the hatredthat had overmastered his being. "My God, " he said, "if I could onlygit you to fight to-day I'd give everything I've got left!"

The sheepman's gaze was becoming furtive as he watched them. Heglanced sidewise, edging away from the door; then, pricking his mulewith his spurs, he galloped madly away, ducking his head at every jumpas if he feared a shot. 

"Look at the cowardly dastard!" sneered Creede bitterly. "D'ye knowwhat he would do if that was me? He'd shoot me in the back. Ah, GodA'mighty, and that dog of his got Tommy before I could pull a gun!Rufe, I could kill every sheepman in the Four Peaks for this--everydam' one of 'em--and the first dog that comes in sight of this ranchwill stop a thirty-thirty. " He stopped and turned away, cursing andmuttering to himself. 

"God A'mighty, " he moaned, "I can't keep _nothin'_!" And stumblingback into the house he slammed the door behind him. 

A gloom settled down over the place, a gloom that lasted for days. Thecowboys came back from driving the town herd and, going up on themesa, they gathered a few head more. Then the heat set in before itstime and the work stopped short. For the steer that is roped andbusted in the hot weather dies suddenly at the water; the flies buzzabout the ears of the new-marked calves and poison them, and themother cows grow gaunt and thin from overheating. Not until the longSummer had passed could the riding continue; the steers must be leftto feed down the sheeped-out range; the little calves must run forsleepers until the fall _rodéo_. Sheep and the drought had cometogether, and the round-up was a failure. Likewise the cowmen werebroke. 

As they gathered about the fire on that last night it was a silentcompany--the _rodéo_ boss the gloomiest of them all. Not since thedeath of Tommy had his eyes twinkled with the old mischief; he had nobets to offer, no news to volunteer; a dull, sombre abstraction layupon him like a pall. Only when Bill Lightfoot spoke did he look up, and then with a set sneer, growing daily more saturnine. The world wasdark to Creede and Bill's fresh remarks jarred on him--but Billhimself was happy. He was of the kind that runs by opposites, takingtheir troubles with hilarity under the impression that they arephilosophers. His pretext for this present happiness was a professedinterview with Kitty Bonnair on the evening that the town herd pulledinto Moreno's. What had happened at this interview was a secret, ofcourse, but it made Bill happy; and the more morose and ugly Jeffbecame about it the more it pleased Lightfoot to be gay. He sat on abox that night and sang _risqué_ ditties, his enormous Colt's revolverdangling bravely at his hip; and at last, casting his weather eye uponCreede, he began a certain song. 

 "Oh, my little girl, she lives in the town--"

And then he stopped. 

"Bill, " said the _rodéo_ boss feelingly, "you make me tired. "

"Lay down an' you'll git rested, then, " suggested Lightfoot. 

 "_A toodle link, a toodle link, a too-oodle a day. _"

"I'll lay you down in a minute, if you don't shut up, " remarkedCreede, throwing away his cigarette. 

"The hell you say, " commented Lightfoot airily. 

 "And last time I seen her she ast me to come down. "

At this raw bit of improvisation the boss rose slowly to his feet andstalked away from temptation. 

 "And if anybody sees her you'll know her by this sign, "

chanted the cowboy, switching to an out-and-out bad one; and then, swaying his body on his cracker box, he plunged unctuously into thechorus. 

 "_She's got a dark and rolling eye, boys; She's got a dark and rolling eye. _"

He stopped there and leapt to his feet anxiously. The mighty bulk ofthe _rodéo_ boss came plunging back at him through the darkness; hisbruising fist shot out and the frontier troubadour went sprawlingamong the pack saddles. 

It was the first time Creede had ever struck one of his own kind, --menwith guns were considered dangerous, --but this time he laid onunmercifully. 

"You've had that comin' to you for quite a while, Bill Lightfoot, " hesaid, striking Bill's ineffectual gun aside, "and more too. Now maybeyou'll keep shut about 'your girl'!"

He turned on his heel after administering this rebuke and went to thehouse, leaving his enemy prostrate in the dirt. 

"The big, hulkin' brute, " blubbered Lightfoot, sitting up andaggrievedly feeling of his front teeth, "jumpin' on a little fellerlike me--an' he never give me no warnin', neither. You jest wait, I'll--"

"Aw, shut up!" growled Old Man Reavis, whose soul had long beenharrowed by Lightfoot's festive ways. "He give you plenty of warnin', if you'd only listen. Some people have to swallow a few front teethbefore they kin learn anythin'. "

"Well, what call did he have to jump on me like that?" protestedLightfoot. "I wasn't doin' nothin'. "

"No, nothin' but singin' bawdy songs about his girl, " sneered Reavissarcastically. 

"His girl, rats!" retorted the cowboy, vainglorious even in defeat, "she's my girl, if she's anybody's!"

"Well, about _your_ girl then, you dirty brute!" snarled the old man, suddenly assuming a high moral plane for his utter annihilation. "You're a disgrace to the outfit, Bill Lightfoot, " he added, withconviction. "I'm ashamed of ye. "

"That's right, " chimed in the Clark boys, whose sensibilities hadlikewise been harassed; and with all the world against him BillLightfoot retired in a huff to his blankets. So the _rodéo_ ended asit had begun, in disaster, bickering, and bad blood, and no manrightly knew from whence their misfortune came. Perhaps the planets intheir spheres had cast a malign influence upon them, or maybe the bellmare had cast a shoe. Anyhow they had started off the wrong foot and, whatever the cause, the times were certainly not auspicious formatters of importance, love-making, or the bringing together of theestranged. Let whatsoever high-priced astrologer cast his horoscopefor good, Saturn was swinging low above the earth and dealing especialmisery to the Four Peaks; and on top of it all the word came that oldBill Johnson, after shooting up the sheep camps, had gone crazy andtaken to the hills. 

For a week, Creede and Hardy dawdled about the place, patching up thegates and fences and cursing the very name of sheep. A spirit ofunrest hovered over the place, a brooding silence which spoke only ofTommy and those who were gone, and the two partners eyed each otherfurtively, each deep in his own thoughts. At last when he could standit no longer Creede went over to the corner, and dug up his money. 

"I'm goin' to town, " he said briefly. 

"All right, " responded Hardy; and then, after meditating a while, headded: "I'll send down some letters by you. "

Late that evening, after he had written a long letter to Lucy and ashort one to his father, he sat at the desk where he had found theirletters, and his thoughts turned back to Kitty. There lay the littlebook which had held their letters, just as he had thrust it aside. Hepicked it up, idly, and glanced at the title-page: "Sonnets from thePortuguese. " How dim and far away it all seemed now, this world of thepoets in which he had once lived and dreamed, where sweetness andbeauty were enshrined as twin goddesses of light, and gentlenessbrooded over all her children. What a world that had been, with itsgraceful, smiling women, its refinements of thought and speech, itsaspirations and sympathies--and Kitty! He opened the book slowly, wondering from whence it had come, and from the deckled leaves apressed forget-me-not fell into his hand. That was all--there was nomark, no word, no sign but this, and as he gazed his numbed mindgroped through the past for a forget-me-not. Ah yes, he remembered!But how far away it seemed now, the bright morning when he had met hislove on the mountain peak and the flowers had fallen from herhair--and what an inferno of strife and turmoil had followed since! Heopened to the place where the imprint of the dainty flower lay andread reverently:

 "If thou must love me, let it be for nought Except for love's sake only. Do not say 'I love her for her smile--her look--her way Of speaking gently--for a trick of thought That falls in well with mine, and certes brought A sense of pleasant ease on such a day'-- For these things in themselves, Belovéd, may Be changed, or change for thee--and love, so wrought, May be unwrought so. Neither love me for Thine own dear pity's wiping my cheek dry-- A creature might forget to weep, who bore Thy comfort long, and lose thy love thereby! But love me for love's sake, that evermore Thou mayst love on, through love's eternity. "

The spell of the words laid hold upon as he read and he turned pageafter page, following the cycle of that other woman's love--a lovewhich waited for years to be claimed by the master hand, neverfaltering to the end. Then impulsively he reached for a fair sheet ofpaper to begin a letter to Kitty, a letter which should breathe theold gentleness and love, yet "for love's sake only. " But while he satdreaming, thinking with what words to begin, his partner lounged in, and Hardy put aside his pen and waited, while the big man hung aroundand fidgeted. 

"Well, I'll be in town to-morrer, " he said, drearily. 

"Aha, " assented Hardy. 

"What ye got there?" inquired Creede, after a long silence. He pickedup the book, griming the dainty pages as he turned them with his roughfingers, glancing at the headings. 

"Um-huh, " he grunted, "'Sonnets from the Portegees, ' eh? I neverthought them Dagos could write--what I've seen of 'em was mostlydrivin' fish-wagons or swampin' around some slaughterhouse. How doesshe go, now, " he continued, as his schooling came back to him, "seeif I can make sense out of it. " He bent down and mumbled over thefirst sonnet, spelling out the long words doubtfully. 

 "I thought once how The-o-crite-us had sung Of the sweet years, the dear and wished-for years, Who each one in a gracious hand appears To bear a gift for mortals, old or young: And as I mused it in his an--"

"Well say, what's he drivin' at, anyway?" demanded the rugged cowboy. "Is that Dago talk, or is he jest mixed in his mind? Perfectly clear, eh? Well, maybe so, but I fail to see it. Wish I could git aholt ofsome _good_ po'try. " He paused, waiting for Hardy to respond. 

"Say, " he said, at last, "do me a favor, will ye, Rufe?"

The tone of his voice, now soft and diffident, startled Hardy out ofhis dream. 

"Why sure, Jeff, " he said, "if I can. "

"No, no 'ifs' and 'ands' about it!" persisted Creede. "A lucky fellerlike you with everythin' comin' his way ought to be able to say 'Yes'once in a while without hangin' a pull-back on it. "

"Huh, " grunted Hardy suspiciously, "you better tell me first what youwant. "

"Well, I want you to write me a letter, " blurted out Creede. "I cankeep a tally book and order up the grub from Bender; but, durn theluck, when it comes to makin' love on paper I'd rather wrastle a bear. Course you know who it is, and you savvy how them things is done. Throw in a little po'try, will you, and--and--say, Rufe, for God'ssake, help me out on this!"

He laid one hand appealingly upon his partner's shoulder, but thelittle man squirmed out from under it impatiently. 

"Who is it?" he asked doggedly. "Sallie Winship?"

"Aw, say, " protested Creede, "don't throw it into a feller likethat--Sal went back on me years ago. You know who I mean--KittyBonnair. "

"Kitty Bonnair!" Hardy had known it, but he had tried to keep her nameunspoken. Battle as he would he could not endure to hear it, even fromJeff. 

"What do you want to tell Miss Bonnair?" he inquired, schooling hisvoice to a cold quietness. 

"Tell her?" echoed Creede ecstatically. "W'y, tell her I'm lonely ashell now she's gone--tell her--well, there's where I bog down, but I'dtrade my best horse for another kiss like that one she give me, andthrow in the saddle for _pelon_. Now, say, Rufe, don't leave me in ahole like this. You've made your winnin', and here's your nice longletter to Miss Lucy. My hands are as stiff as a burnt rawhide and Ican't think out them nice things to say; but I love Kitty jest as muchas you love Miss Lucy--mebbe more--and--and I wanter tell her so!"

He ended abjectly, gazing with pleading eyes at the stubborn face ofhis partner whose lips were drawn tight. 

"We--every man has to--no, I can't do it, Jeff, " he stammered, choking. "I'd--I'd help you if I could, Jeff--but she'd know my style. Yes, that's it. If I'd write the letter she'd know it was fromme--women are quick that way. I'm sorry, but that's the way itis--every man has to fight out his own battle, in love. "

He paused and fumbled with his papers. 

"Here's a good pen, " he said, "and--and here's the paper. " He shovedout the fair sheet upon which he had intended to write and rose updumbly from the table. 

"I'm going to bed, " he said, and slipped quietly out of the room. Ashe lay in his blankets he could see the gleam of light from the barredwindow and hear Jeff scraping his boots uneasily on the floor. Trueindeed, his hands were like burnt rawhide from gripping at ropes andirons, his clothes were greasy and his boots smelled of the corral, and yet--she had given him a kiss! He tried to picture it in hismind: Kitty smiling--or startled, perhaps--Jeff masterful, triumphant, laughing. Ah God, it was the same kiss she had offered him, and he hadrun away!

In the morning, there was a division between them, a barrier whichcould not be overcome. Creede lingered by the door a minute, awkwardly, and then rode away. Hardy scraped up the greasy dishes andwashed them moodily. Then the great silence settled down upon HiddenWater and he sat alone in the shadow of the _ramada_, gazing away atthe barren hills. 

CHAPTER XIX

THE BIG DRUNK

The sun rose clear for the hundredth time over the shoulder of theFour Peaks; it mounted higher, glowing with a great light, and thesmooth round tops of the bowlders shone like half-buried skulls alongthe creek-bed; it swung gloriously up to its zenith and the earthpalpitated with a panting heat. Summer had come, and the long dayswhen the lizards crawl deep into their crevices and the cattle followthe scanty shade of the box cañons or gather in standing-places wherethe wind draws over the ridges and mitigates the flies. In the pastureat Hidden Water the horses stood head and tail together, side by side, each thrashing the flies from the other's face and dozing until hungeror thirst aroused them or perversity took them away. Against the coolface of the cliff the buzzards moped and stretched their dirty wingsin squalid discomfort; the trim little sparrow-hawks gave over theirhunting; and all the world lay tense and still. Only at the ranchhouse where Hardy kept a perfunctory watch was there any sign ofmotion or life. 

For two weeks now he had been alone, ever since Jeff went down toBender, and with the solitary's dread of surprise he stepped out intothe _ramada_ regularly, scanning the western trail with eyes grownweary of the earth's emptiness. 

At last as the sun sank low, throwing its fiery glare in his eyes, hesaw the familiar figure against the sky--Creede, broad and bulky andtopped by his enormous hat, and old Bat Wings, as raw-boned and orneryas ever. Never until that moment had Hardy realized how much his lifewas dependent upon this big, warm-hearted barbarian who clung to hisnative range as instinctively as a beef and yet possessed humanattributes that would win him friends anywhere in the world. Often inthat long two weeks he had reproached himself for abandoning Jeff inhis love-making. What could be said for a love which made a man sopitiless? Was it worthy of any return? Was it, after all, a thing tobe held so jealously to his heart, gnawing out his vitals and robbinghim of his humanity? These and many other questions Hardy had had timeto ask himself in his fortnight of introspection and as he stood bythe doorway waiting he resolved to make amends. From a petty creaturewrapped up in his own problems and prepossessions he would makehimself over into a man worthy of the name of friend. Yet theconsciousness of his fault lay heavy upon him and as Creede rode in hestood silent, waiting for him to speak. But Jeff for his part came ongrimly, and there was a sombre glow in his eyes which told more thanwords. 

"Hello, sport, " he said, smiling wantonly, "could you take a porefeller in over night?"

"Sure thing, I can, " responded Hardy gayly. "Where've you been all thetime?"

And Creede chanted:

 "Down to Bender, On a bender, Oh, I'm a spender, You bet yer life!

"And I'm broke, too, " he added, _sotto voce_, dropping off his horseand sinking into a chair. 

"Well, you don't need to let that worry you, " said Hardy. "I've gotplenty. Here!" He went down into his pocket and tossed a gold piece tohim, but Creede dodged it listlessly. 

"Nope, " he said, "money's nothin' to me. "

"What's the matter?" asked Hardy anxiously. "Are you sick?"

"Yes, " answered Creede, nodding his head wearily, "sick and tired ofit all. " He paused and regarded his partner solemnly. "I'm a miserablefailure, Rufe, " he said. "I ain't _got_ nothin' and I ain't _worth_nothin'. I never _done_ nothin'--and I ain't got a friend in theworld. "

He stopped and gazed at the barren land despondently, waiting to seeif his partner would offer any protests. 

"Rufe, " he said, at last, his voice tremulous with reproach, "if you'donly helped me out a little on that letter--if you'd only told me afew things--well, she might have let me down easy, and I could've tookit. As it was, she soaked me. "

Then it was that Hardy realized the burden under which his partner waslaboring, the grief that clutched at his heart, the fire that burnedin his brain, and he could have wept, now that it was too late. 

"Jeff, " he said honestly, "it don't do any good now, but I'm sorry. I'm more than sorry--I'm ashamed. But _that_ don't do you any goodeither, does it?"

He stepped over and laid his hand affectionately upon his partner'sshoulder, but Creede hunched it off impatiently. 

"No, " he said, slowly and deliberately, "not a dam' bit. " There was nobitterness in his words, only an acknowledgment of the truth. "Theywas only one thing for me to do after I received that letter, " hecontinued, "and I done it. I went on a hell-roarin' drunk. That'sright. I filled up on that forty-rod whiskey until I was crazy drunk, an' then I picked out the biggest man in town and fought him to awhisper. "

He sighed and glanced at his swollen knuckles, which still showed themarks of combat. 

"That feller was a jim-dandy scrapper, " he said, smiling magnanimously, "but I downed 'im, all right. I couldn't quite lick the whole town, butI tried; and I certainly gave 'em a run for their money, while itlasted. If Bender don't date time from Jeff Creede's big drunk Imiss my guess a mile. And you know, after I got over bein' fightin'drunk, I got cryin' drunk--but I never did get drunk enough to tellmy troubles, thank God! The fellers think I'm sore over bein' sheepedout. Well, after I'd punished enough booze to start an Injun uprisin', and played the faro bank for my wad, I went to sleep; and when I wokeup it seemed a lo-ong time ago and I could look back and see jest howfoolish I'd been. I could see how she'd jollied me up and got mecomin', playin' me off against Bill Lightfoot; and then I could see howshe'd tantalized me, like that mouse the cat had when you was down inBender; and then I could see where I had got the big-head bad, thinkin'I was the only one--and all the time she was _laughin'_ at me! Oh, it's nothin' now--I kin laugh at it myself in a month; but I'm so dam'_'shamed_ I could cry. " He lopped down in his chair, a great hulk ofa man, and shook his head gloomily. 

"They ain't but one girl I ever knowed, " he said solemnly, "thatwasn't stringin' me, and that was Sallie Winship. Sal liked me, dam'dif she didn't. She cried when she went away, but the old lady wouldn'tstand for no bow-legged cowpuncher--and so I git euchred, everytime. "

For lack of some higher consolation Hardy cooked up a big supper forhis low-spirited partner, and after he had done the honors at thefeast the irrepressible good health of the cowboy rose up andconquered his grief in spite of him. He began by telling the story ofhis orgy, which apparently had left Bender a wreck. The futile rage ofBlack Tex, the despair of the town marshal, the fight with the BigMan, the arrest by the entire _posse comitatus_, the good offices ofMr. Einstein in furnishing bail, the crying and sleeping jags--allwere set forth with a vividness which left nothing to the imagination, and at the end the big man was comforted. When it was all over and hismemory came down to date he suddenly recalled a package of lettersthat were tied up in his coat, which was still on the back of hissaddle. He produced them forthwith and, like a hungry boy who seesothers eat, sat down to watch Rufe read. No letters ever came forhim--and when one did come it was bad. The first in the pack was fromLucy Ware and as Hardy read it his face softened, even while he knewthat Creede was watching. 

"Say, she's all right, ain't she?" observed Jeff, when his partnerlooked up. 

"That's right, " said Hardy, "and she says to take you on again asforeman and pay you for every day you didn't carry your gun. "

"No!" cried Creede, and then he laughed quietly to himself. "Does thatinclude them days I was prizin' up hell down in Bender? Oh, it does, eh? Well, you can tell your boss that I'll make that up to her beforethe Summer's over. "

He leaned back and stretched his powerful arms as if preparing forsome mighty labor. "We're goin' to have a drought this Summer, " hesaid impressively, "that will have the fish packin' water in canteens. Yes, sir, the chaser is goin' to cost more than the whiskey beforelong; and they's goin' to be some dead cows along the river. Do youknow what Pablo Moreno is doin'? He's cuttin' brush already to feedhis cattle. That old man is a wise _hombre_, all right, when it comesto weather. He's been hollerin' '_Año seco, año seco_, ' for the lastyear, and now, by Joe, we've got it! They ain't hardly enough water inthe river to make a splash, and here it's the first of June. We'vebeen kinder wropt up in fightin' sheep and sech and hain't noticed howdry it's gittin'; but that old feller has been sittin' on top of hishill watchin' the clouds, and smellin' of the wind, and measurin' theriver, and countin' his cows until he's a weather sharp. I wasa-ridin' up the river this afternoon when I see the old man cuttin'down a _palo verde_ tree, and about forty head of cattle lingerin'around to eat the top off as soon as she hit the ground; and he saysto me, kinder solemn and fatherly:

"'Jeff, ' he says, 'cut trees for your cattle--this is an _año seco_. "

"'Yes, I've heard that before, ' says I. 'But my cows is learnin' toclimb. '"

"'_Stawano_, ' he says, throwin' out his hands like I was a hopelessproposition. But all the same I think I'll go out to-morrow and cutdown one of them _palo verdes_ like he show'd me--one of these kindwith little leaves and short thorns--jest for an expeeriment. Ifthe cattle eat it, w'y maybe I'll cut another, but I don't want tobe goin' round stuffin' my cows full of twigs for nothin'. Let 'emrustle for their feed, same as I do. But honest to God, Rufe, some ofthem little runty cows that hang around the river can't hardlycast a shadder, they're that ganted, and calves seems to begittin' kinder scarce, too. But here--git busy, now--here's a letteryou overlooked. "

He pawed over the pile purposefully and thrust a pale blue envelopebefore Hardy--a letter from Kitty Bonnair. And his eyes took on acold, fighting glint as he observed the fatal handwriting. 

"By God, " he cried, "I hain't figured out yet what struck me! I neverspoke a rough word to that girl in my life, and she certainly gimme anice kiss when she went away. But jest as soon as I write her a loveletter, w'y she--she--W'y hell, Rufe, I wouldn't talk that way to asheep-herder if he didn't _know_ no better. Now you jest readthat"--he fumbled in his pocket and slammed a crumpled letter downbefore his partner--"and tell me if I'm wrong! No, I want you to doit. Well, I'll read it to you, then!"

He ripped open the worn envelope, squared his elbows across the table, and opened the scented inclosure defiantly, but before he could readit Hardy reached out suddenly and covered it with his hand. 

"Please don't, Jeff, " he said, his face pale and drawn. "It was all myfault--I should have told you--but please don't read it to me. I--Ican't stand it. "

"Oh, I don't know, " retorted Creede coldly. "I reckon you can stand itif I can. Now suppose you wrote a real nice letter--the best youknowed how--to your girl, and she handed you somethin' like this: 'Mydear Mr. Creede, yore amazin' letter--' Here, what ye doin'?"

"I won't listen to it!" cried Hardy, snatching the letter away, "it's--"

"Now lookee here, Rufe Hardy, " began Creede, rising up angrily fromhis chair, "I want to tell you right now that you've got to read thatletter or lick me--and I doubt if you can do that, the way I happen tobe feelin'. You got me into this in the first place and now, by God, you'll see it out! Now you _read_ that letter and tell me if I'mwrong!"

He reared up his head as he spoke and Hardy saw the same fierce gleamin his eyes that came when he harried the sheep; but there wassomething beside that moved his heart to pity. It was the lurkingsadness of a man deep hurt, who fights the whole world in his anguish;the protest of a soul in torment, demanding, like Job, that some oneshall justify his torture. 

"All right, Jeff, " he said, "I will read it--only--only don't crowd mefor an answer. "

He spread the letter before him on the table and saw in a kind of hazethe angry zigzag characters that galloped across the page, the wordswhose meaning he did not as yet catch, so swiftly did his thoughtsrise up at sight of them. Years ago Kitty had written him a letter andhe had read it at that same table. It had been a cruel letter, butunconsidered, like the tantrum of a child. Yes, he had almostforgotten it, but now like a sudden nightmare the old horror clutchedat his heart. He steadied himself, and the words began to take formbefore him. Surely she would be gentle with Jeff, he was so big andkind. Then he read on, slowly, grasping at the meaning, and once morehis eyes grew big with horror at her words. He finished, and bowed hishead upon the table, while the barren room whirled before him. 

From his place across the table the big cowboy looked down upon him, grim and masterful, yet wondering at his silence. 

"Well, am I wrong?" he demanded, but the little man made no answer. 

Upon the table before Hardy there lay another letter, written in thatsame woman's hand, a letter to him, and the writing was smooth andfair. Jeff had brought it to him, tied behind his saddle, and he stoodbefore him now, waiting. 

"Am I wrong?" he said again, but Hardy did not answer in words. Holding the crumpled letter behind him he took up his own fairmissive--such a one as he would have died for in years gone by--andlaid it on the fire, and when the tiny flame leaped up he dropped theother on it and watched them burn together. 

"Well, how about it?" inquired Creede, awed by the long silence, butthe little man only bowed his head. 

"Who am I, to judge?" he said. 

CHAPTER XX

THE DROUGHT

For a year the shadowy clouds had flitted past Hidden Water, driftinglike flocks of snowy birds to their resting-place against the Peaks, and as the wind raged and the darkness gathered the cattle had raisedtheir heads and bellowed, sniffing the wet air. In Summer thethunder-heads had mounted to high heaven and spread from east to west;the heat lightning had played along the horizon at night, restless andincessant; the sky had turned black and the south wind had rushed up, laden with the smell of distant showers. At last the rain had fallen, graciously, bringing up grass and browse, and flowers for those whosought them. But all the time the water lay in black pools along theshrunken river, trickling among the rocks and eddying around hugesnags of driftwood, clear, limpid, sparkling, yet always less andless. 

Where the winter floods had scoured the lowlands clear, a fuzz of babytrees sprang up, growing to a rank prosperity and dying suddenlybeneath the sun. Along the river's edge little shreds of watercresstook root and threw out sprouts and blossoms; the clean water broughtforth snaky eel-grass and scum which fed a multitude of fishes; in theshadows of deep rocks the great bony-tails and Colorado River salmonlay in contented shoals, like hogs in wallows, but all the time thewater grew less and less. At every shower the Indian wheat sprang upon the mesas, the myriad grass-seeds germinated and struggled forth, sucking the last moisture from the earth to endow it with more seeds. In springtime the deep-rooted mesquites and _palo verdes_ threw outthe golden halo of their flowers until the cañons were aflame; thesoggy _sahuaros_ drank a little at each sparse downpour and defied thedrought; all the world of desert plants flaunted their pigmented greenagainst the barren sky as if in grim contempt; but the little streamsran weaker and weaker, creeping along under the sand to escape thepitiless sun. 

As Creede and Hardy rode out from Hidden Water, the earth lay deadbeneath their horses' feet--stark and naked, stripped to the rocks bythe sheep. Even on Bronco Mesa the ground was shorn of its covering;the cloven hoofs of the sheep had passed over it like a scalpingknife, tearing off the last sun-blasted fringe of grass. In openspaces where they had not found their way the gaunt cattle stillcurled their hungry tongues beneath the bushes and fetched out spearsof grass, or licked the scanty Indian wheat from the earth itself. 

With lips as tough and leathery as their indurated faces, the hardiestof them worked their way into bunches of stick-cactus and _chollas_, breaking down the guard of seemingly impenetrable spines and munchingon the juicy stalks; while along the ridges long-necked cows bobbedfor the high browse which the sheep had been unable to reach. 

The famine was upon them; their hips stood out bony and unsightlyabove their swollen stomachs as they racked across the benches, andtheir eyes were wild and haggard. But to the eye of Creede, educatedby long experience, they were still strong and whole. The weaklingswere those that hung about the water, foot-sore from their longjourneyings to the distant hills and too weary to return. At thespring-hole at Carrizo they found them gathered, the runts and roughsof the range; old cows with importunate calves bunting at theirflaccid udders; young heifers, unused to rustling for two; _orehannas_with no mothers to guide them to the feed; rough steers that had been"busted" and half-crippled by some reckless cowboy--all theunfortunate and incapable ones, standing dead-eyed and hopeless orlimping stiffly about. 

A buzzard rose lazily from a carcass as they approached, and theypaused to note the brand. Then Creede shook his head bodingly and rodeinto the bunch by the spring. At a single glance the _rodéo_ bossrecognized each one of them and knew from whence he came. He jumpedhis horse at a wild steer and started him toward the ridges; the cowswith calves he rounded up more gently, turning them into the uppertrail; the _orehannas_, poor helpless orphans that they were, followedhopefully, leaving one haggard-eyed old stag behind. 

Creede looked the retreating band over critically and shook his headagain. 

"Don't like it, " he observed, briefly; and then, unlocking theponderous padlock that protected their cabin from hungry sheepmen, hewent in and fetched out the axe. "Guess I'll cut a tree for that oldstiff, " he said. 

From his stand by the long troughs where all the mountain cattlewatered in Summer, the disconsolate old stag watched the felling ofthe tree curiously; then after an interval of dreary contemplation, heracked his hide-bound skeleton over to the place and began to browse. Presently the rocks began to clatter on the upper trail, and an oldcow that had been peering over the brow of the hill came back to gether share. Even her little calf, whose life had been cast in thornyways, tried his new teeth on the tender ends and found them good. The_orehannas_ drifted in one after the other, and other cows withcalves, and soon there was a little circle about the tree-top, munching at the soft, brittle twigs. 

"Well, that settles it, " said Creede. "One of us stays here and cutsbrush, and the other works around Hidden Water. This ain't the firstdrought I've been through, not by no means, and I've learned thismuch: the Alamo can be dry as a bone and Carrizo, too, but they'salways water here and at the home ranch. Sooner or later every cow onthe range will be goin' to one place or the other to drink, and if wegive 'em a little bait of brush each time it keeps 'em from gittin'too weak. As long as a cow will rustle she's all right, but the minuteshe's too weak to travel she gits to be a water-bum--hangs around thespring and drinks until she starves to death. But if you feed 'em alittle every day they'll drift back to the ridges at night and pick upa little more. I'm sorry for them lily-white hands of yourn, pardner, but which place would you like to work at?"

"Hidden Water, " replied Hardy, promptly, "and I bet I can cut as manytrees as you can. "

"I'll go you, for a fiver, " exclaimed Creede, emulously. "Next timeRafael comes in tell him to bring me up some more grub and baled hay, and I'm fixed. And say, when you write to the boss you can tell herI've traded my gun for an axe!"

As Hardy turned back towards home he swung in a great circle and rodedown the dry bed of the Alamo, where water-worn bowlders and ricks ofmountain drift lay strewn for miles to mark the vanished stream. Whata power it had been in its might, floating sycamores and ironwoods asif they were reeds, lapping high against the granite walls, moving thevery rocks in its bed until they ground together! But now the sand laydry and powdery, the willows and water-moodies were dead to the roots, and even the ancient cottonwoods from which it derived its name weredying inch by inch. A hundred years they had stood there, defyingstorm and cloudburst, but at last the drought was sucking away theirlife. On the mesa the waxy greasewood was still verdant, the gorged_sahuaros_ stood like great tanks, skin-tight with bitter juice, andall the desert trees were tipped with green; but the children of theriver were dying for a drink. 

A string of cattle coming in from The Rolls stopped and stared at thesolitary horseman, head up against the sky; then as he rode on theyfell in behind him, travelling the deep-worn trail that led to HiddenWater. At the cleft-gate of the pass, still following the hard-stampedtrail, Hardy turned aside from his course and entered, curious to seehis garden again before it succumbed to the drought. There before himstood the sycamores, as green and flourishing as ever; the eaglesoared out from his cliff; the bees zooned in their caves; and beyondthe massive dyke that barred the way the tops of the elders waved thelast of their creamy blossoms. In the deep pool the fish still dartedabout, and the waterfall that fed it was not diminished. The tinkle ofits music seemed even louder, and as Hardy looked below he saw that alittle stream led way from the pool, flowing in the trench where thecattle came to drink. It was a miracle, springing from the bosom ofthe earth from whence the waters come. When all the world outside laydead and bare, Hidden Water flowed more freely, and its garden livedon untouched. 

Never had Hardy seen it more peaceful, and as he climbed theIndian steps and stood beneath the elder, where _Chupa Rosa_ hadbuilt her tiny nest his heart leapt suddenly as he remembered Lucy. Here they had sat together in the first gladness of her coming, reading his forgotten verse and watching the eagle's flight; only forthat one time, and then the fight with the sheep had separated them. He reached up and plucked a spray of elder blossoms to send her for akeep-sake--and then like a blow he remembered the forget-me-not! Fromthat same garden he had fetched her a forget-me-not for repentance, and then forgotten her for Kitty. Who but Lucy could have left thelittle book of poems, or treasured a flower so long to give it backat parting? And yet in his madness he had forgotten her!

He searched wistfully among the rocks for another forget-me-not, butthe hot breath of the drought had killed them. As he climbed slowlydown the stone steps he mused upon some poem to take the place of theflowers that were dead, but the spirit of the drought was everywhere. The very rocks themselves, burnt black by centuries of sun, werepainted with Indian prayers for rain. A thousand times he had seen thesign, hammered into the blasted rocks--the helix, that mystic symbolof the ancients, a circle, ever widening, never ending, --and wonderedat the fate of the vanished people who had prayed to the Sun forrain. 

The fragments of their sacrificial _ollas_ lay strewn among thebowlders, but the worshippers were dead; and now a stranger prayed tohis own God for rain. As he sat at his desk that night writing to Lucyabout the drought, the memory of those Indian signs came upon himsuddenly and, seizing a fresh sheet of paper, he began to write. Atthe second stanza he paused, planned out his rhymes and hurried onagain, but just as his poem seemed finished, he halted at the lastline. Wrestle as he would he could not finish it--the rhymes wereagainst him--it would not come right. Ah, that is what sets the artistapart from all the under-world of dreamers--his genius endures to theend; but the near-poet struggles like a bee limed in his own honey. What a confession of failure it was to send away--a poem unfinished, or finished wrong! And yet--the unfinished poem was like him. Howoften in the past had he left things unsaid, or said them wrong. Perhaps Lucy would understand the better and prize it for its faults. At last, just as it was, he sent it off, and so it came to her hand. 

 A PRAYER FOR RAIN

 Upon this blasted rock, O Sun, behold Our humble prayer for rain--and here below A tribute from the thirsty stream, that rolled Bank-full in flood, but now is sunk so low Our old men, tottering, yet may stride acrost And babes run pattering where the wild waves tossed. 

 The grass is dead upon the stem, O Sun! The lizards pant with heat--they starve for flies-- And they for grass--and grass for rain! Yea, none Of all that breathe may face these brazen skies And live, O Sun, without the touch of rain. Behold, thy children lift their hands--in vain!

 Drink up the water from this _olla's_ brim And take the precious corn here set beside-- Then summon thy dark clouds, and from the rim Of thy black shield strike him who hath defied Thy power! Appease thy wrath, Great Sun--but give Ah, give the touch of rain to those that live!

As it had been a thousand years before, so it was that day at HiddenWater. The earth was dead, it gave forth nothing; the sky was cleanand hard, without a cloud to soften its asperity. Another month andthe cattle would die; two months and the water would fail; then in thelast agonies of starvation and thirst the dissolution would come--theFour Peaks would be a desert. Old Don Pablo was right, the world wasdrying up. Chihuahua and Sonora were parched; all Arizona lay strickenwith the drought; in California the cattle were dying on the ranges, and in Texas and New Mexico the same. God, what a thing--to see thegreat earth that had supported its children for ages slowly dying forwater, its deserts first, and then its rivers, and then thepine-topped mountains that gave the rivers birth! Yet what was therefor a man to do but take care of his own and wait? The rest was in thehands of God. 

On the first morning that Hardy took his axe and went down to theriver he found a single bunch of gaunted cattle standing in the shadeof the big mesquites that grew against Lookout Point--a runty cowwith her two-year-old and yearling, and a wobbly calf with a cactusjoint stuck across his nose. His mother's face showed that she, too, had been among the _chollas_; there was cactus in her knees and longspines bristling from her jaws, but she could stand it, while it was amatter of life and death to the calf. Every time he came near hismother she backed away, and whenever he began to nudge for milk shekicked out wildly. So Hardy roped him and twitched the joint away witha stick; then he pulled out the thorns one by one and went about hiswork. 

Selecting a fine-leaved _palo verde_ that grew against the point, hecleared a way into its trunk and felled it down the hill. He cut asecond and a third, and when he looked back he saw that his labor wasappreciated; the runty cow was biting eagerly at the first tree-top, and the wobbly calf was restored to his own. As the sound of the axecontinued, a band of tame cattle came stringing down the sandyriverbed, and before the morning was over there were ten or twentyderelicts and water-bums feeding along the hillside. In the afternoonhe cut more trees along the trail to Hidden Water, and the next daywhen he went to work he found a little band of weaklings there, lingering expectantly in the shadow of the cañon wall. As the dayswent by more and more of them gathered about the water, the lame, thesick, the crippled, the discouraged, waiting for more trees to befelled. Then as the feed on the distant ridges grew thinner and thenumber of cut trees increased, a great band of them hung about thevicinity of the ranch house constantly--the herds from Hidden Waterand the river, merged into one--waiting to follow him to the hills. 

For a mile up and down the cañon of the Alamo, the _palo verde_ stumpsdotted the hillside, each with its top below it, stripped to the barkand bared of every twig. As the breathless heat of July came on, Hardywas up before dawn, hewing and felling, and each day the long line ofcattle grew. They trampled at his heels like an army, gaunt, emaciated; mothers mooing for their calves that lay dead along thegulches; mountain bulls and outlaws, tamed by gnawing hunger andweakness, and the awful stroke of the heat. And every day other bandsof outlaws, driven at last from their native hills, drifted in toswell the herd. For a month Hardy had not seen a human face, nor hadhe spoken to any living creature except Chapuli or some poor cow thatlay dying by the water. When he was not cutting trees on the fartherridges, he was riding along the river, helping up those that hadfallen or dragging away the dead. 

Worn and foot-sore, with their noses stuck full of cactus joints, their tongues swollen from the envenomed thorns, their stomachs afirefrom thirst and the burden of bitter stalks, the wild cattle from theridges would stagger down to the river and drink until their flanksbulged out and their bellies hung heavy with water. Then, overcomewith fatigue and heat, they would sink down in the shade and liedreaming; their limbs would stiffen and cramp beneath them until theycould not move; and there they would lie helpless, writhing theirscrawny necks as they struggled to get their feet under them. To theseevery day came Hardy with his rawhide _reata_. Those that he could notscare up he pulled up; if any had died he dragged the bodies away fromthe water; and as soon as the recent arrivals had drunk he turned themaway, starting them on their long journey to the high ridges where thesheep had not taken the browse. 

Ah, those sheep! How many times in the fever of heat and work andweariness had Hardy cursed them, his tongue seeking unbidden thewickedest words of the range; how many times had he cursed Jim Swope, and Jasper Swope, the Mexicans, and all who had rushed in to helpaccomplish their ruin. And as the sun beat down and no clouds cameinto the sky he cursed himself, blindly, for all that had come topass. One man--only one--at the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket, and thesheep might have been turned back; but he himself had seen thedust-cloud and let it pass--and for that the cattle died. The sheepwere far away, feeding peacefully in mountain valleys where the pinesroared in the wind and the nights were cool and pleasant; but if therain came and young grass sprang up on Bronco Mesa they would comeagain, and take it in spite of them. Yes, even if the drought wasbroken and the cattle won back their strength, that great army wouldcome down from the north once more and sheep them down to the rocks!But one thing Hardy promised himself--forgetting that it was thebootless oath of old Bill Johnson, who was crazy now and hiding in thehills--he would kill the first sheep that set foot on Bronco Mesa, andthe next, as long as he could shoot; and Jasp Swope might answer as hewould. 

Yet, why think of sheep and schemes of belated vengeance?--the grasswas gone; the browse was cleaned; even the _palo verde_ trees weregrowing scarce. Day by day he must tramp farther and farther along theridge, and all that patient, trusting army behind, waiting for him tofind more trees! Already the weakest were left behind and stood alongthe trails, eying him mournfully; yet work as he would he could notfeed the rest. There was no fine-drawn distinction now--every _paloverde_ on the hillside fell before his axe, whether it was fine-leavedand short-thorned, or rough and spiny; and the cattle ate them all. Mesquite and cat-claw and ironwood, tough as woven wire and barbed atevery joint, these were all that were left except cactus and thearmored _sahuaros_. In desperation he piled brush beneath clumps offuzzy _chollas_, the thorniest cactus that grows, and burned off theresinous spines; but the silky bundles of stickers still lurkedbeneath the ashes, and the cattle that ate them died in agony. 

Once more Hardy took his ax and went out in search of _palo verdes_, high or low, young or old. There was a gnarled trunk, curling upagainst a rocky butte and protected by two spiny _sahuaros_ that stoodbefore it like armed guards, and he climbed up the rock to reach it. Chopping away the first _sahuaro_ he paused to watch it fall. As itbroke open like a giant melon on the jagged rocks below, the cattlecrowded about it eagerly, sniffing at the shattered parts--and thenthe hardiest of them began suddenly to eat!

On the outside the wiry spines stood in rows like two-inch knifeblades; but now the juicy heart, laid open by the fall, was exposed, and the cattle munched it greedily. A sudden hope came to Hardy as hewatched them feed, and, climbing higher, he felled two more of thedesert giants, dropping them from their foothold against the butte fardown into the rocky cañon. As they struck and burst, and the sicklyaroma filled the air, the starved cattle, bitten with a new appetite, rushed forward in hordes to eat out their bitter hearts. At last, whenthe battle had seemed all but over, he had found a new food, --one thateven Pablo Moreno had overlooked, --each plant a ton of bitter pulp andjuice. The coarse and wiry spines, whose edges would turn an axe, wereconquered in a moment by the fall from the precipitous cliffs. And themesa was covered with them, like a forest of towering pin-cushions, asfar as the eye could see! A great gladness came over Hardy as he sawthe starved cattle eat, and as soon as he had felled a score or morehe galloped up to Carrizo to tell the news to Jeff. 

The mesa was deserted of every living creature. There was not a snaketrack in the dust or a raven in the sky, but as he topped the brow ofthe hill and looked down into the cañon, Hardy saw a great herd ofcattle, and Creede in the midst of them still hacking away at thethorny _palo verdes_. At the clatter of hoofs, the big man looked upfrom his work, wiping the sweat and grime from his brow, and his facewas hard and drawn from working beyond his strength. 

"Hello!" he called. "How's things down your way--water holdin' out?Well, you're in luck, then; I've had to dig the spring out twice, andyou can see how many cows I'm feedin'. But say, " he continued, "d'yethink it's as hot as this down in hell? Well, if I thought for aminute it'd be as dry I'd take a big drink and join the church, youcan bet money on that. What's the matter--have you got enough?"

"I've got enough of cutting _palo verdes_, " replied Hardy, "but youjust lend me that axe for a minute and I'll show you something. " Hestepped to the nearest _sahuaro_ and with a few strokes felled it downthe hill, and when Creede saw how the cattle crowded around the brokentrunk he threw down his hat and swore. 

"Well--damn--me, " he said, "for a pin-head! Here I've been cuttin'these ornery _palo verdes_ until my hands are like a Gila monster'sback, and now look at them cows eat giant cactus! There's no usetalkin', Rufe, the feller that wears the number five hat and thenumber forty jumper ain't worth hell-room when you're around--here, gimme that axe!" He seized it in his thorn-scarred hands and whirledinto the surrounding giants like a fury; then when he had a dozen fat_sahuaros_ laid open among the rocks he came back and sat down pantingin the scanty shade of an ironwood. 

"I'm sore on myself, " he said. "But that's the way it is! If I'd hadthe brains of a rabbit I'd've stopped Jasp Swope last Spring--then Iwouldn't need to be cuttin' brush here all Summer like a Mexicanwood-chopper. That's where we fell down--lettin' them sheep in--andnow we've got to sweat for it. But lemme tell you, boy, " he cried, raising a mighty fist, "if I can keep jest one cow alive until FallI'm goin' to meet Mr. Swope on the edge of my range and shoot 'im fullof holes! Nothin' else will do, somebody has got to be _killed_ beforethis monkey business will stop! I've been makin' faces and skinnin' myteeth at that dastard long enough now, and I'm goin' to make him fightif I have to put high-life on 'im!"

He stopped and looked out over the hillside where the heat quivered inrainbows from the rocks, and the naked _palo verdes_, stripped oftheir bark, bleached like skeletons beside their jagged stumps. 

"Say, Rufe, " he began, abruptly, "I'm goin' crazy. "

He shook his head slowly and sighed. "I always thought I was, " hecontinued, "but old Bill Johnson blew in on me the other day--he'scrazy, you know--and when I see him I knowed it! W'y, pardner, Bill isthe most _reas-on-able_ son-of-a-gun you can imagine. You can talkto him by the hour, and outside of bein' a little techy he's allright; but the minute you mention _sheep_ to him his eye turns glassyand he's off. Well, that's me, too, and has been for years, onlynot quite so bad; but then, Bill is plumb sheeped out and Iain't--quite!"

He laughed mirthlessly and filled a cigarette. 

"You know, " he said, squinting his eyes down shrewdly, "that oldfeller ain't so durned crazy yet. He wanted some ammunition to shootup sheep-camps with, but bein' a little touched, as you might say, hethought I might hold out on 'im, so he goes at me like this: 'Jeff, 'he says, 'I've took to huntin' lions for the bounty now--me and thehounds--and I want to git some thirty-thirtys. ' But after I'd give himall I could spare he goes on to explain how the sheep, not satisfiedwith eatin' 'im out of house and home, had gone and tolled all thelions away after 'em--so, of course, he'll have to foller along, too. You catch that, I reckon. "

Creede drooped his eyes significantly and smoked. 

"If it hadn't been for old Bill Johnson, " he said, "we wouldn't have alive cow on our range to-day, we'd've been sheeped down that close. When he'd got his ammunition and all the bacon and coffee I couldspare he sat down and told me how he worked it to move all them sheeplast Spring. After he'd made his first big play and see he couldn'tsave the Pocket he went after them sheepmen systematically for hisrevenge. That thirty-thirty of his will shoot nigh onto two miles ifyou hold it right, and every time he sees a sheep-camp smoke heInjuned up onto some high peak and took pot-shots at it. At thedistance he was you couldn't hear the report--and, of course, youcouldn't _see_ smokeless powder. He says the way them Mexican herderstook to the rocks was a caution; and when the fireworks was over theydidn't wait for orders, jest rounded up their sheep and hiked!

"And I tell you, pardner, " said the big cowman impressively, "afterthinkin' this matter over in the hot sun I've jest about decided to gocrazy myself. Yes, sir, the next time I hear a sheep-blat on BroncoMesa I'm goin' to tear my shirt gittin' to the high ground with athirty-thirty; and if any one should inquire you can tell 'em thatyour pore friend's mind was deranged by cuttin' too many _paloverdes_. " He smiled, but there was a sinister glint in his eyes; andas he rode home that night Hardy saw in the half-jesting words aportent of the never-ending struggle that would spring up if God eversent the rain. 

On the day after the visit to Carrizo a change came over the sky; ahaze that softened the edges of the hills rose up along the horizon, and the dry wind died away. As Hardy climbed along the rocky bluffsfelling the giant _sahuaros_ down into the ravines for his cattle, thesweat poured from his face in a stream. A sultry heaviness hung overthe land, and at night as he lay beneath the _ramada_ he saw thelightning, hundreds of miles away, twinkling and playing along thenorthern horizon. It was a sign--the promise of summer rain!

In the morning a soft wind came stealing in from the west; a whitecloud came up out of nothing and hovered against the breast of thePeaks; and the summer heat grew terrible. At noon the cloud turnedblack and mounted up, its fluffy summit gleaming in the light of theardent sun; the wind whirled across the barren mesa, sweeping greatclouds of dust before it, and the air grew damp and cool; then, asevening came on the clouds vanished suddenly and the wind died down toa calm. For a week the spectacle was repeated--then, at last, as ifweary, the storm-wind refused to blow; the thunder-caps no longerpiled up against the Peaks; only the haze endured, and the silent, suffocating heat. 

Day after day dragged by, and without thought or hope Hardy ploddedon, felling _sahuaros_ into the cañons, his brain whirling in thefever of the great heat. Then one day as the sun rose higher agigantic mass of thunder-clouds leapt up in the north, covering halfthe sky. The next morning they rose again, brilliant, metallic, radiating heat like a cone of fire. The heavens were crowned withsudden splendor, the gorgeous pageantry of summer clouds that riserank upon rank, basking like newborn cherubim in the glorious lightof the sun, climbing higher and higher until they reached the zenith. 

A moist breeze sprang up and rushed into the storm's black heart, feeding it with vapors from the Gulf; then in the south, the home ofthe rain, another great cloud arose, piling in fluffy billows againstthe grim cliffs of the Superstitions and riding against the flyingcohorts that reared their snowy heads in the north. The wind fell andall nature lay hushed and expectant, waiting for the rain. The cattlewould not feed; the bearded ravens sat voiceless against the cliffs;the gaunt trees and shrubs seemed to hold up their arms--for the rainthat did not come. For after all its pomp and mummery, its blackmantle that covered all the sky and the bravery of its trailingskirts, the Storm, that rode in upon the wind like a king, slunk awayat last like a beaten craven. Its black front melted suddenly, and itsdraggled banners, trailing across the western sky, vanished utterly inthe kindling fires of sunset. 

As he lay beneath the starlit sky that night, Hardy saw a vision ofthe end, as it would come. He saw the cañons stripped clean of theirhigh-standing _sahuaros_, the spring at Carrizo dry, the riverstinking with the bodies of the dead--even Hidden Water quenched atlast by the drought. Then a heavy sleep came upon him as he laysprawling in the pitiless heat and he dreamed--dreamed of gaunt steersand lowing cows, and skeletons, strewn along the washes; of labor, never ending, and sweat, dripping from his face. He woke suddenly withthe horror still upon him and gazed up at the sky, searching vainlyfor the stars. The night was close and black, there was a stir amongthe dead leaves as if a snake writhed past, and the wind breathedmysteriously through the bare trees; then a confused drumming came tohis ears, something warm and wet splashed against his face, and intohis outstretched hand God sent a drop of rain. 

CHAPTER XXI

THE FLOOD

The rain came to Hidden Water in great drops, warmed by the sultryair. At the first flurry the dust rose up like smoke, and the earthhissed; then as the storm burst in tropic fury the ground was struckflat, the dust-holes caught the rush of water and held it in suddenpuddles that merged into pools and rivulets and glided swiftly away. Like a famine-stricken creature, the parched earth could not drink;its bone-dry dust set like cement beneath the too generous flood andrefused to take it in--and still the rain came down in sluicingtorrents that never stayed or slackened. The cracked dirt of the_ramada_ roof dissolved and fell away, and the stick frame leaked likea sieve. The rain wind, howling and rumbling through the framework, hurled the water to the very door where Hardy stood, and as it touchedhis face, a wild, animal exultation overcame him and he dashed outinto the midst of it. God, it was good to feel the splash of rainagain, to lean against the wind, and to smell the wet and mud! Hewandered about through it recklessly, now bringing in his saddle andbedding, now going out to talk with his horse, at last simply standingwith his hands outstretched while his whole being gloried in thestorm. 

As the night wore on and the swash of water became constant, Hardy layin his blankets listening to the infinite harmonies that lurk in theechoes of rain, listening and laughing when, out of the rumble of thestorm, there rose the deeper thunder of running waters. Already therocky slides were shedding the downpour; the draws and gulches wereleading it into the creek. But above their gurgling murmur there camea hoarser roar that shook the ground, reverberating through the dampair like the diapason of some mighty storm-piece. At daybreak hehurried up the cañon to find its source, plunging along through therain until, on the edge of the bluff that looked out up the Alamo, hehalted, astounded at the spectacle. From its cleft gate Hidden Water, once so quiet and peaceful, was now vomiting forth mud, rocks, andfoaming waters in one mad torrent; it overleapt the creek, piling upits debris in a solid dam that stretched from bank to bank, while fromits lower side a great sluiceway of yellow water spilled down into thebroad bed of the Alamo. 

Above the dam, where the cañon boxed in between perpendicular walls, there lay a great lagoon, a lake that rose minute by minute as ifseeking to override its dam, yet held back by the torrent of sand andwater that Hidden Water threw across its path. For an hour they foughteach other, the Alamo striving vainly to claim its ancient bed, HiddenWater piling higher its hurtling barrier; then a louder roarreverberated through the valley and a great wall of dancing waterswept down the cañon and surged into the placid lake. On its breast itbore brush and sticks, and trees that waved their trunks in the airlike the arms of some devouring monster as they swooped down upon thedam. At last the belated waters from above had come, the outpouringsof a hundred mountain creeks that had belched forth into the Alamolike summer cloudbursts. The forefront of the mighty storm-crestlapped over the presumptuous barrier in one hissing, high-flungwaterfall; then with a final roar the dam went out and, as thebowlders groaned and rumbled beneath the flood, the Alamo overleaptthem and thundered on. 

A sudden sea of yellow water spread out over the lower valley, treesbent and crashed beneath the weight of drift, the pasture fence duckedunder and was gone. Still irked by its narrow bed the Alamo swung awayfrom the rock-bound bench where the ranch house stood and, uprootingeverything before it, ploughed a new channel to the river. As itswirled past, Hardy beheld a tangled wreckage of cottonwoods andsycamores, their tops killed by the drought, hurried away on thisoverplus of waters; the bare limbs of _palo verdes_, felled by his ownaxe; and sun-dried skeletons of cattle, light as cork, dancing andbobbing as they drifted past the ranch. 

The drought was broken, and as the rain poured down it washed away alltoken of the past. Henceforward there would be no sign to move theuneasy spirit; no ghastly relic, hinting that God had once forgottenthem; only the water-scarred gulches and cañons, and the ricks ofdriftwood, piled high along the valleys in memory of the flood. Allday the rain sluiced down, and the Alamo went wild in its might, throwing a huge dam across the broad bed of the river itself. But whenat last in the dead of night the storm-crest of the Salagua burstforth, raging from its long jostling against chasm walls, a boom likea thunder of cannon echoed from all the high cliffs by Hidden Water;and the warring waters, bellowing and tumbling in their titanic fury, joined together in a long, mad race to the sea. 

So ended the great flood; and in the morning the sun rose up clean andsmiling, making a diamond of every dew-drop. Then once more the cattlegathered about the house, waiting to be fed, and Hardy went out asbefore to cut _sahuaros_. On the second day the creek went down andthe cattle from the other bank came across, lowing for their share. But on the third day, when the sprouts began to show on the twiningstick-cactus, the great herd that had dogged his steps for months leftthe bitter _sahuaros_ and scattered across the mesa like children on apicnic, nipping eagerly at every shoot. 

In a week the flowers were up and every bush was radiant with newgrowth. The grass crept out in level places, and the flats in thevalley turned green, but the broad expanse of Bronco Mesa still layhalf-barren from paucity of seeds. Where the earth had been torn upand trampled by the sheep the flood had seized upon both soil and seedand carried them away, leaving nothing but gravel and broken rocks;the sheep-trails had turned to trenches, the washes to gulches, thegulches to ravines; the whole mesa was criss-crossed with tiny gullieswhere the water had hurried away--but every tree and bush was in itsglory, clothed from top to bottom in flaunting green. Within a weekthe cattle were back on their old ranges, all that were left fromfamine and drought. Some there were that died in the midst of plenty, too weak to regain their strength; others fell sick from overeatingand lost their hard-earned lives; mothers remembered calves that werelost and bellowed mournfully among the hills. But as rain followedrain and the grass matured a great peace settled down upon the land;the cows grew round-bellied and sleepy-eyed, the bulls began to roaralong the ridges, and the Four Peaks cattlemen rode forth from theirmountain valleys to see how their neighbors had fared. 

They were a hard-looking bunch of men when they gathered at the Dos SRanch to plan for the fall _rodéo_. Heat and the long drought hadlined their faces deep, their hands were worn and crabbed from monthsof cutting brush, and upon them all was the sense of bitter defeat. There would be no branding in the pens that Fall--the spring calveswere all dead; nor was there any use in gathering beef steers thatwere sure to run short weight; there was nothing to do, in fact, butcount up their losses and organize against the sheep. It had been ahard Summer, but it had taught them that they must stand together orthey were lost. There was no one now who talked of waiting for ForestReserves, or of diplomacy and peace--every man was for war, and warfrom the jump--and Jefferson Creede took the lead. 

"Fellers, " he said, after each man had had his say, "there's only oneway to stop them sheep, and that is to stop the first band. Never mindthe man--dam' a herder, you can buy one for twenty dollars amonth--_git the sheep_! Now suppose we stompede the first bunch thatcomes on our range and scatter 'em to hell--that's _fif-teen thousanddol-lars gone_! God A'mighty, boys, think of losin' that much realmoney when you're on the make like Jim Swope! W'y, Jim would go crazy, he'd throw a fit--and, more than that, fellers, " he added, sinking hisvoice to a confidential whisper, "he'd go round. 

"Well, now, what ye goin' to do?" he continued, a crafty gleam cominginto his eye. "Are we goin' to foller some cow's tail around untilthey jump us again? Are we goin' to leave Rufe here, to patrol ahundred miles of range lone-handed? Not on your life--not me! We'regoin' to ride this range by day's works, fellers, and the first bunchof sheep we find we're goin' to scatter 'em like shootin' stars--andif any man sees Jasp Swope I'll jest ask him to let me know. Is it ago? All right--and I'll tell you how we'll do. 

"There's only three places that the sheep can get in on us: along theAlamo, over the Juate, or around between the Peaks. Well, the wholecaboodle of us will camp up on the Alamo somewhere, and we'll jestnaturally ride them three ridges night and day. I'm goin' to ask oneof you fellers to ride away up north and foller them sheepmen down, sothey can't come a circumbendibus on us again. I'm goin' to give 'emfair warnin' to keep off of our upper range, and then the firstwool-pullin' sheep-herder that sneaks in on Bronco Mesa is goin' togit the scare of his life--and the coyotes is goin' to git his sheep. 

"That's the only way to stop 'em! W'y, Jim Swope would run sheep onhis mother's grave if it wasn't for the five dollars fine. All right, then, we'll jest fine Mr. Swope fifteen thousand dollars for comin' inon our range, and see if he won't go around. There's only one thingthat I ask of you fellers--when the time comes, for God's sake _sticktogether_!"

The time came in late October, when the sheep were on The Rolls. Inorderly battalions they drifted past, herd after herd, until therewere ten in sight. If any sheepman resented the silent sentinels thatrode along the rim he made no demonstration of the fact--and yet, forsome reason every herd sooner or later wandered around until itfetched up against the dead line. There were fuzzy _chollas_ fartherout that got caught in the long wool and hurt the shearers' hands; itwas better to camp along the Alamo, where there was water for theirstock--so the simple-minded herders said, trying to carry off theirbluff; but when Creede scowled upon them they looked away sheepishly. The _padron_ had ordered it--they could say no more. 

"_Muy bien_, " said the overbearing Grande, "and where is your_padron_?"

"_Quien sabe!_" replied the herders, hiking up their shoulders andshowing the palms of their hands, and "Who knows" it was to the end. There was wise counsel in the camp of the sheepmen; they never hadtrouble if they could avoid it, and then only to gain a point. But itwas this same far-seeing policy which, even in a good year when therewas feed everywhere, would not permit them to spare the upper range. For two seasons with great toil and danger they had fought their wayup onto Bronco Mesa and established their right to graze there--to goaround now would be to lose all that had been gained. 

But for once the cowmen of the Four Peaks were equal to the situation. There were no cattle to gather, no day herds to hold, no calves tobrand in the pens--every man was riding and riding hard. There waswood on every peak for signal fires and the main camp was establishedon the high ridge of the Juate, looking north and south and west. Whenthat signal rose up against the sky--whether it was a smoke by day ora fire by night--every man was to quit his post and ride to harry thefirst herd. Wherever or however it came in, that herd was to bedestroyed, not by violence nor by any overt act, but by the sheepmen'sown methods--strategy and stealth. 

For once there was no loose joint in the cordon of the cowmen'sdefence. From the rim of the Mogollons to the borders of Bronco Mesathe broad trail of the sheep was marked and noted; their shiftings anddoublings were followed and observed; the bitterness of Tonto cowmen, crazy over their wrongs, was poured into ears that had alreadylistened to the woes of Pleasant Valley. When at last Jasper Swope'sboss herder, Juan Alvarez, the same man-killing Mexican that JeffCreede had fought two years before, turned suddenly aside and struckinto the old Shep Thomas trail that comes out into the deep crotchbetween the Peaks, a horseman in _chaparejos_ rode on before him, spurring madly to light the signal fires. That night a fire blazed upfrom the shoulder of the western mountain and was answered from theJuate. At dawn ten men were in the saddle, riding swiftly, withJefferson Creede at their head. 

It was like an open book to the cowmen now, that gathering of thesheep along the Alamo--a ruse, a feint to draw them away from thePeaks while the blow was struck from behind. Only one man was left toguard that threatened border--Rufus Hardy, the man of peace, who hadturned over his pistol to the boss. It was a bitter moment for himwhen he saw the boys start out on this illicit adventure; but for oncehe restrained himself and let it pass. The war would not be settled ata blow. 

At the shoulder of the Peak the posse of cowmen found Jim Clark, hisshaps frayed and his hat slouched to a shapeless mass from longbeating through the brush, and followed in his lead to a pocketvalley, tucked away among the cedars, where they threw off their packsand camped while Jim and Creede went forward to investigate. It was arough place, that crotch between the Peaks, and Shep Thomas had cuthis way through chaparral that stood horse-high before he won thesouthern slope. To the north the brush covered all the ridges in adense thicket, and it was there that the cow camp was hid; but on thesouthern slope, where the sun had baked out the soil, the mountainside stretched away bare and rocky, broken by innumerable ravineswhich came together in a _redondo_ or rounded valley and then plungedabruptly into the narrow defile of a box cañon. This was the middlefork, down which Shep Thomas had made his triumphal march the yearbefore, and down which Juan Alvarez would undoubtedly march again. 

Never but once had the sheep been in that broad valley, and the heavyrains had brought out long tufts of grama grass from the bunchy rootsalong the hillsides. As Creede and Jim Clark crept up over the brow ofthe western ridge and looked down upon it they beheld a herd of fortyor fifty wild horses, grazing contentedly along the opposite hillside;and far below, where the valley opened out into the _redondo_, theysaw a band of their own tame horses feeding. Working in from eitherside--the wild horses from the north, where they had retreated toescape the drought; the range animals from the south, where the sheephad fed off the best grass--they had made the broad mountain valley arendezvous, little suspecting the enemy that was creeping in upontheir paradise. Already the distant bleating of the sheep was in theair; a sheepman rode up to the summit, looked over at the promisedland and darted back, and as the first struggling mass of leaderspoured out from the cut trail and drifted down into the valley thewild stallions shook out their manes in alarm and trotted fartheraway. 

A second band of outlaws, unseen before, came galloping along thewestern mountain side, snorting at the clangor and the rank smell ofthe sheep, and Creede eyed them with professional interest as theleaders trotted past. Many times in the old days he had followed alongthose same ridges, rounding up the wild horses and sending themdashing down the cañon, so that Hardy could rush out from his hidingplace and make his throw. It was a natural hold-up ground, that_redondo_, and they had often talked of building a horse trap there;but so far they had done no more than rope a chance horse and let therest go charging down the box cañon and out the other end onto BroncoMesa. 

It was still early in the morning when Juan Alvarez rode down the passand invaded the forbidden land. He had the name of a bad _hombre_, this boss herder of Jasper Swope, the kind that cuts notches on hisrifle stock. Only one man had ever made Juan eat dirt, and that mannow watched him from the high rocks with eyes that followed every movewith the unblinking intentness of a mountain lion. 

"Uhr-r! Laugh, you son of a goat, " growled Creede, as the big Mexicanpulled up his horse and placed one hand complacently on his hip. "Sure, make yourself at home, " he muttered, smiling as his enemydrifted his sheep confidently down into the _redondo_, "you're goin'jest where I want ye. Come sundown and we'll go through you like ahouse afire. If he beds in the _redondo_ let's shoot 'em into that boxcañon, Jim, " proposed the big cowman, turning to his partner, "andwhen they come out the other end all hell wouldn't stop 'em--they'llgo forty ways for Sunday. "

"Suits me, " replied Jim, "but say, what's the matter with roundin' upsome of them horses and sendin' 'em in ahead? That boss Mexican isgoin' to take a shot at some of us fellers if we do the workourselves. "

"That's right, Jim, " said Creede, squinting shrewdly at the threearmed herders. "_I'll_ tell ye, let's send them wild horses through'em! Holy smoke! jest think of a hundred head of them outlaws comin'down the cañon at sundown and hammerin' through that bunch of sheep!And we don't need to git within gunshot!"

"Fine and dandy, " commented Jim, "but how're you goin' to hold yourhorses to it? Them herders will shoot off their guns and turn 'emback. "

"Well, what's the matter with usin' our tame horses for a hold-up herdand then sendin' the whole bunch through together? They'll strike forthe box cañon, you can bank on that, and if Mr. Juan will _only_--"But Mr. Juan was not so accommodating. Instead of holding his sheep inthe _redondo_ he drifted them up on the mountain side, where he couldoverlook the country. 

"Well, I'll fix you yet, " observed Creede, and leaving Jim to watch hescuttled down to his horse and rode madly back to camp. 

That afternoon as Juan Alvarez stood guard upon a hill he saw, far offto the west, four horsemen, riding slowly across the mesa. Instantlyhe whistled to his herders, waving his arms and pointing, and in apanic of apprehension they circled around their sheep, crouching lowand punching them along until the herd was out of sight. And still thefour horsemen rode on, drawing nearer, but passing to the south. Butthe sheep, disturbed and separated by the change, now set up aplaintive bleating, and the boss herder, never suspecting the trapthat was being laid for him, scrambled quickly down from his lookoutand drove them into the only available hiding-place--the box cañon. Many years in the sheep business had taught him into what smallcompass a band of sheep can be pressed, and he knew that, once throwntogether in the dark cañon, they would stop their telltale blattingand go to sleep. Leaving his herders to hold them there he climbedback up to his peak and beheld the cowboys in the near distance, butstill riding east. 

An hour passed and the sheep had bedded together in silence, eachstanding with his head under another's belly, as is their wont, whenthe four horsemen, headed by Jeff Creede himself, appeared suddenly onthe distant mountain side, riding hard along the slope. Gallopingahead of them in an avalanche of rocks was the band of loose horsesthat Alvarez had seen in the _redondo_ that morning, and with theinstinct of their kind they were making for their old stampingground. 

Once more the sheepman leaped up from his place and scampered down thehill to his herd, rounding up his pack animals as he ran. With madhaste he shooed them into the dark mouth of the cañon, and thenhurried in after them like a badger that, hearing the sound ofpursuers, backs into some neighboring hole until nothing is visiblebut teeth and claws. So far the boss herder had reasoned well. Hissheep were safe behind him and his back was against a rock; a hundredmen could not dislodge him from his position if it ever came to afight; but he had not reckoned upon the devilish cunning ofhorse-taming Jeff Creede. Many a time in driving outlaws to the riverhe had employed that same ruse--showing himself casually in thedistance and working closer as they edged away until he had gained hisend. 

The sun was setting when Creede and his cowboys came clattering downthe mountain from the east and spurred across the _redondo_, whoopingand yelling as they rounded up their stock. For half an hour they rodeand hollered and swore, apparently oblivious of the filigree of sheeptracks with which the ground was stamped; then as the _remuda_ quieteddown they circled slowly around their captives, swinging theirwide-looped ropes and waiting for the grand stampede. 

The dusk was beginning to gather in the low valley and the weirdevensong of the coyotes was at its height when suddenly from the norththere came a rumble, as if a storm gathered above the mountain; thenwith a roar and the thunder of distant hoofs, the crashing of brushand the nearer click of feet against the rocks a torrent of wildhorses poured over the summit of the pass and swept down into theupper valley like an avalanche. Instantly Creede and his cowboysscattered, spurring out on either wing to turn them fair for the boxcañon, and the tame horses, left suddenly to their own devices, stoodhuddled together in the middle of the _redondo_, fascinated by theswift approach of the outlaws. Down the middle of the broad valleythey came, flying like the wind before their pursuers; at sight ofCreede and his cowboys and the familiar hold-up herd they swerved andslackened their pace; then as the half-circle of yelling cowmen closedin from behind they turned and rushed straight for the box cañon, their flint-like feet striking like whetted knives as they poured intothe rocky pass. Catching the contagion of the flight the tame horsesjoined in of their own accord, and a howl of exultation went up fromthe Four Peaks cowmen as they rushed in to complete the overthrow. Inone mad whirl they mingled--wild horses and tame, and wilder ridersbehind; and before that irresistible onslaught Juan Alvarez and hisherders could only leap up and cling to the rocky cliffs like bats. And the sheep! A minute after, there were no sheep. Those that werenot down were gone--scattered to the winds, lost, annihilated!

Seized by the mad contagion, the cowboys themselves joined in theawful rout, spurring through the dark cañon like devils let loose fromhell. There was only one who kept his head and waited, and that wasJefferson Creede. Just as the last wild rider flashed around thecorner he jumped his horse into the cañon and, looking around, caughtsight of Juan Alvarez, half-distraught, crouching like a monkey upon anarrow ledge. 

"Well, what--the--hell!" he cried, with well-feigned amazement. "_I_didn't know you was here!"

The sheepman swallowed and blinked his eyes, that stood out big andround like an owl's. 

"Oh, that's all right, " he said. 

"But it wouldn't 'a' made a dam' bit of difference if I had!" addedCreede, and then, flashing his teeth in a hectoring laugh, he putspurs to his horse and went thundering after his fellows. 

Not till that moment did the evil-eyed Juan Alvarez sense the trickthat had been played upon him. 

"_Cabrone!_" he screamed, and whipping out his pistol he emptied itafter Creede, but the bullets spattered harmlessly against the rocks. 

Early the next morning Jefferson Creede rode soberly along the westernrim of Bronco Mesa, his huge form silhouetted against the sky, gazingdown upon the sheep camps that lay along the Alamo; and thesimple-minded Mexicans looked up at him in awe. But when the recreantherders of Juan Alvarez came skulking across the mesa and told thestory of the stampede, a sudden panic broke out that spread likewildfire from camp to camp. Orders or no orders, the timid Mexicansthrew the sawhorses onto their burros, packed up their blankets andmoved, driving their bawling sheep far out over The Rolls, wherebefore the _chollas_ had seemed so bad. It was as if they had passedevery day beneath some rock lying above the trail, until, looking up, they saw that it was a lion, crouching to make his spring. For yearsthey had gazed in wonder at the rage and violence of Grande Creede, marvelling that the _padron_ could stand against it; but now suddenlythe big man had struck, and _bravo_ Juan Alvarez had lost his sheep. Hunt as long as he would he could not bring in a tenth of them. _Ay, que malo!_ The boss would fire Juan and make him walk to town; butthey who by some miracle had escaped, would flee while there was yettime. 

For two days Creede rode along the rim of Bronco Mesa--that dead linewhich at last the sheepmen had come to respect, --and when at last hesighted Jim Swope coming up from Hidden Water with two men who mightbe officers of the law he laughed and went to meet them. Year in andyear out Jim Swope had been talking law--law; now at last they wouldsee this law, and find out what it could do. One of the men with Swopewas a deputy sheriff, Creede could tell that by his star; but theother man might be almost anything--a little fat man with a pointedbeard and congress shoes; a lawyer, perhaps, or maybe some towndetective. 

"Is this Mr. Creede?" inquired the deputy, casually flashing his staras they met beside the trail. 

"That's my name, " replied Creede. "What can I do for you?"

"Well, Mr. Creede, " responded the officer, eying his man carefully, "Icome up here to look into the killing of Juan Alvarez, a Mexicansheep-herder. "

"The killin'?" echoed Creede, astounded. 

"That's right, " snapped the deputy sheriff, trying to get the jump onhim. "What do you know about it?"

"Who--me?" answered the cowman, his eyes growing big and earnest as hegrasped the news. "Not a thing. The last time I saw Juan Alvarez hewas standin' on a ledge of rocks way over yonder in the middlefork--and he certainly was all right then. "

"Yes? And when was this, Mr. Creede?"

"Day before yesterday, about sundown. "

"Day before yesterday, eh? And just what was you doin' over there atthe time?"

"Well, I'll tell ye, " began Creede circumstantially. "Me and BenReavis and a couple of the boys had gone over toward the Pocket tocatch up our horses. They turned back on us and finally we run 'eminto that big _redondo_ up in the middle fork. I reckon we was ridin'back and forth half an hour out there gittin' 'em stopped, and wenever heard a peep out of this Mexican, but jest as we got our_remuda_ quieted down and was edgin' in to rope out the ones wewanted, here comes a big band of wild horses that the other boys hadscared up over behind the Peaks, roaring down the cañon and into us. Of course, there was nothin' for it then but to git out of the way andlet 'em pass, and we did it, dam' quick. Well, sir, that bunch of wildhorses went by us like the mill tails of hell, and of course our_remuda_ stompeded after 'em and the whole outfit went bilin' throughthe box cañon, where it turned out Juan Alvarez had been hidin' hissheep. That's all I know about it. "

"Well, did you have any trouble of any kind with this deceasedMexican, Mr. Creede? Of course you don't need to answer that if itwill incriminate you, but I just wanted to know, you understand. "

"Oh, that's all right, " responded the cowman, waving the suggestionaside with airy unconcern. "This is the first I've heard of anykillin', but bein' as you're an officer I might as well come throughwith what I know. I don't deny for a minute that I've had trouble withJuan. I had a fist fight with him a couple of years ago, and I lickedhim, too--but seein' him up on that ledge of rocks when I rode throughafter my horses was certainly one of the big surprises of my life. "

"Uh, you was surprised, was ye?" snarled Swope, who had been gloweringat him malignantly through his long recital. "Mebbe--"

"Yes, I was surprised!" retorted Creede angrily. "And I was like theman that received the gold-headed cane--I was _pleased_, too, ifthat's what you're drivin' at. I don't doubt you and Jasp sent thatdam' Greaser in there to sheep us out, and if he got killed you've gotyourself to thank for it. He had no business in there, in the firstplace, and in the second place, I gave you fair warnin' to keep 'imout. "

"You hear that, Mr. Officer?" cried the sheepman. "He admits makingthreats against the deceased; he--"

"Just a moment, just a moment, Mr. Swope, " interposed the deputysheriff pacifically. "Did you have any words with this Juan Alvarez, Mr. Creede, when you saw him in the cañon? Any trouble of any kind?"

"No, we didn't have what you might call trouble--that is, nothin'serious. "

"Well, just what words passed between you? This gentleman here is thecoroner; we've got the body down at the ranch house, and we may wantto suppeenie you for the inquest. "

"Glad to meet you, sir, " said Creede politely. "Well, all they was toit was this: when I rode in there and see that dam' Mexican standin'up on a ledge with his eyes bulgin' out, I says, 'What in hell--_I_didn't know you was here!' And he says, 'Oh, that's all right. '"

"Jest listen to the son-of-a-gun lie!" yelled Jim Swope, besidehimself with rage. "_Listen_ to him! He said that was all right, didhe? Three thousand head of sheep stompeded--"

"Yes, " roared Creede, "he said: 'That's all right. ' And what's more, there was another Mexican there that heard him! Now how about it, officer; how much have I got to take off this dam' sheep puller beforeI git the right to talk back? Is he the judge and jury in this matter, or is he just a plain buttinsky?"

"I'll have to ask you gentlemen to key down a little, " replied thedeputy noncommittally, "and let's get through with this as soon aspossible. Now, Mr. Creede, you seem to be willing to talk about thismatter. I understand that there was some shots fired at the time youspeak of. "

"Sure thing, " replied Creede. "Juan took a couple of shots at me as Iwas goin' down the cañon. He looked so dam' funny, sittin' up on thatledge like a monkey-faced owl, that I couldn't help laughin', and ofcourse it riled him some. But that's all right--I wouldn't hold it upagainst a dead man. "

The deputy sheriff laughed in spite of himself, and the coronerchuckled, too. The death of a Mexican sheep-herder was not a verysombre matter to gentlemen of their profession. 

"I suppose you were armed?" inquired the coroner casually. 

"I had my six-shooter in my shaps, all right. "

"Ah, is that the gun? What calibre is it?"

"A forty-five. "

The officers of the law glanced at each other knowingly, and thedeputy turned back toward the ranch. 

"The deceased was shot with a thirty-thirty, " observed the coronerbriefly, and there the matter was dropped. 

"Umm, a thirty-thirty, " muttered Creede, "now who in--" He paused andnodded his head, and a look of infinite cunning came into his face ashe glanced over his shoulder at the retreating posse. 

"Bill Johnson!" he said, and then he laughed--but it was not apleasant laugh. 

CHAPTER XXII

PORTENTS OF WAR

There were signs of impending war on Bronco Mesa. As God sent the rainand the flowers and grass sprang up they grappled with each other likemurderers, twining root about root for the water, fighting upward forthe light--and when it was over the strongest had won. Every tree andplant on that broad range was barbed and fanged against assault; everycreature that could not flee was armed for its own defence; it was aland of war, where the strongest always won. What need was there forwords? Juan Alvarez was dead, shot from some distant peak whilerounding up his sheep--and his sheep, too, were dead. 

They buried the boss herder under a pile of rocks on Lookout Point andplanted a cross above him, not for its Christian significance, nor yetbecause Juan was a good Catholic, but for the Mexicans to look at inthe Spring, when the sheep should come to cross. Jim Swope attended tothis himself, after the coroner had given over the body, and for aparting word he cursed Jeff Creede. 

Then for a day the world took notice of their struggle--the greatoutside world that had left them to fight it out. Three thousand headof sheep had been killed; mutton enough to feed a great city for a dayhad been destroyed--and all in a quarrel over public land. The wordcrept back to Washington, stripped to the bare facts--three thousandsheep and their herder killed by cattlemen on the proposed SalaguaReserve--and once more the question rose, Why was not that SalaguaReserve proclaimed? No one answered. There was another sheep andcattle war going on up in Wyoming, and the same question was beingasked about other proposed reserves. But when Congress convened inDecember the facts began to sift out: there was a combination ofrailroad and lumber interests, big cattlemen, sheepmen, and"land-grabbers" that was "against any interference on the part of theFederal Government, " and "opposed to any change of existing laws andcustoms as to the grazing of live stock upon the public domain. " Thisanomalous organization was fighting, and for years had been fighting, the policy of the administration to create forest reserves and protectthe public land; and, by alliances with other anti-administrationforces in the East, had the President and his forester at their mercy. There would be no forestry legislation that Winter--so the newspaperssaid. But that made no difference to the Four Peaks country. 

Only faint echoes of the battle at Washington reached the cowmen'sears, and they no longer gave them any heed. For years they had beentolled along by false hopes; they had talked eagerly of Forest Rangersto draw two-mile circles around their poor ranches and protect themfrom the sheep; they had longed to lease the range, to pay grazingfees, anything for protection. But now they had struck the first blowfor themselves, and behold, on the instant the sheep went round, thegrass crept back onto the scarred mesa, the cattle grew fat on therange! Juan Alvarez, to be sure, was dead; but their hands were clean, let the sheepmen say what they would. What were a few sheep carcassesup on the high mesa? They only matched the cattle that had died offduring the drought. When they met a sheep-herder now he gave them thetrail. 

Tucked away in a far corner of the Territory, without money, friends, or influence, there was nothing for it but to fight. All nature seemedconspiring to encourage them in their adventure--the Winter came onearly, with heavy rains; the grass took root again among the barrenrocks and when, in a belated _rodéo_, they gathered their beef steers, they received the highest selling price in years. All over Arizona, and in California, New Mexico, and Texas, the great drought haddepleted the ranges; the world's supply of beef had been cut down;feeders were scarce in the alfalfa fields of Moroni; fat cattle werecalled for from Kansas City to Los Angeles; and suddenly the despisedcowmen of the Four Peaks saw before them the great vision which alwayshangs at the end of the rainbow in Arizona--a pot of gold, _if thesheep went around_. And what would make the sheep go around? Nothingbut a thirty-thirty. 

The price of mutton had gone up too, adding a third to the fortune ofevery sheepman; the ewes were lambing on the desert, bringing forth ahundred per cent or better, with twins--and every lamb must eat! Tothe hundred thousand sheep that had invaded Bronco Mesa there wasadded fifty thousand more, and they must all eat. It was this that thesheepmen had foreseen when they sent Juan Alvarez around to raid theupper range--not that they needed the feed then, but they would needit in the Spring, and need it bad. So they had tried to break the wayand, failing, had sworn to come in arms. It was a fight for the grass, nothing less, and there was no law to stop it. 

As the news of the trouble filtered out and crept into obscure cornersof the daily press, Hardy received a long hortatory letter from JudgeWare; and, before he could answer it, another. To these he answeredbriefly that the situation could only be relieved by some form ofFederal control; that, personally, his sympathies were with thecattlemen, but, in case the judge was dissatisfied with hisservices--But Judge Ware had learned wisdom from a past experience andat this point he turned the correspondence over to Lucy. Then in asudden fit of exasperation he packed his grip and hastened across thecontinent to Washington, to ascertain for himself why the SalaguaForest Reserve was not proclaimed. As for Lucy, her letters were ascarefully considered as ever--she wrote of everything except the sheepand Kitty Bonnair. Not since she went away had she mentioned Kitty, nor had Hardy ever inquired about her. In idle moments he sometimeswondered what had been in that unread letter which he had burned withCreede's, but he never wrote in answer, and his heart seemed still anddead. For years the thought of Kitty Bonnair had haunted him, risingup in the long silence of the desert; in the rush and hurry of theround-up the vision of her supple form, the laughter of her eyes, thesuccession of her moods, had danced before his eyes in changingpictures, summoned up from the cherished past; but now his mind wasfilled with other things. Somewhere in the struggle against sheep andthe drought he had lost her, as a man loses a keep-sake which he hascarried so long against his heart that its absence is as unnoticed asits presence, and he never knows himself the poorer. After the droughthad come the sheep, the stampede, fierce quarrels with the Swopes, threats and counter-threats--and then the preparations for war. Thememory of the past faded away and another thought now haunted hismind, though he never spoke it--when the time came, would he fight, orwould he stay with Lucy and let Jeff go out alone? It was a questionnever answered, but every day he rode out without his gun, and Creedetook that for a sign. 

As the Rio Salagua, swollen with winter rains, rose up like a writhingyellow serpent and cast itself athwart the land, it drew a line fromeast to west which neither sheep nor cattle could cross, and thecowmen who had lingered about Hidden Water rode gayly back to theirdistant ranches, leaving the peaceful Dos S where Sallie Winship hadhung her cherished lace curtains and Kitty Bonnair and Lucy Ware hadmade a home, almost a total wreck. Sheep, drought, and flood hadpassed over it in six months' time; the pasture fence was down, thecorrals were half dismantled, and the bunk-room looked like a desertedgrading camp. For a week Creede and Hardy cleaned up and rebuilt, butevery day, in spite of his partner's efforts to divert his mind, Jeffgrew more restless and uneasy. Then one lonely evening he went overto the corner where his money was buried and began to dig. 

"What--the--hell--is the matter with this place?" he exclaimed, looking up from his work as if he expected the roof to drop. "Eversince Tommy died it gits on my nerves, bad. " He rooted out his tomatocan and stuffed a roll of bills carelessly into his overalls pocket. "Got any mail to go out?" he inquired, coming back to the fire, andHardy understood without more words that Jeff was going on anotherdrunk. 

"Why, yes, " he said, "I might write a letter to the boss. But how'reyou going to get across the river--she's running high now. "

"Oh, I'll git across the river, all right, " grumbled Creede. "Born tobe hung and ye can't git drowned, as they say. Well, give the boss mybest. " He paused, frowning gloomily into the fire. "Say, " he said, hisvoice breaking a little, "d'ye ever hear anything from Miss Bonnair?"

For a moment Hardy was silent. Then, reading what was in his partner'sheart, he answered gently:

"Not a word, Jeff. "

The big cowboy sighed and grinned cynically. 

"That was a mighty bad case I had, " he observed philosophically. "Butd'ye know what was the matter with me? Well, I never tumbled to ittill afterward, but it was jest because she was like Sallie--talkedlike her and rode like her, straddle, that way. But I wanter tell you, boy, " he added mournfully, "_Sal_ had a heart. "

He sank once more into sombre contemplation, grumbling as he nursedhis wounds, and at last Hardy asked him a leading question aboutSallie Winship. 

"Did I ever hear from 'er?" repeated Creede, rousing up from hisreverie. "No, and it ain't no use to try. I wrote to her three times, but I never got no answer--I reckon the old lady held 'em out on her. She wouldn't stand for no bow-legged cowpuncher--and ye can't blameher none, the way old man Winship used to make her cook for them_rodéo_ hands--but Sallie would've answered them letters if she'd got'em. "

"But where were they living in St. Louis?" persisted Hardy. "Maybe yougot the wrong address. "

"Nope, I got it straight--Saint Louie, Mo. , jest the way you see it inthese money-order catalogues. "

"But didn't you give any street and number?" cried Hardy, aghast. "Why, for Heaven's sake, Jeff, there are half a million people in St. Louis--she'd never get it in the world. "

"No?" inquired Creede apathetically. "Well, it don't make nodifference, then. I don't amount to a dam', anyhow--and this is noplace for a woman--but, by God, Rufe, I do git awful lonely when Isee you writin' them letters to the boss. If I only had somebody thatcared for me I'd prize up hell to make good. I'd do anything in God'sworld--turn back them sheep or give up my six-shooter, jest as shesaid; but, nope, they's no such luck for Jeff Creede--he couldn't makea-winnin' with a squaw. "

"Jeff, " said Hardy quietly, "how much would you give to get a letterfrom Sallie?"

"What d'ye mean?" demanded Creede, looking up quickly. Then, seeingthe twinkle in his partner's eye, he made a grab for his money. "Mywhole wad, " he cried, throwing down the roll. "What's the deal?"

"All right, " answered Hardy, deliberately counting out the bills, "there's the ante--a hundred dollars. The rest I hold back for thattrip to St. Louis. This hundred goes to the Rinkerton DetectiveAgency, St. Louis, Missouri, along with a real nice letter that I'llhelp you write; and the minute they deliver that letter into the handsof Miss Sallie Winship, formerly of Hidden Water, Arizona, and returnan answer, there's another hundred coming to 'em. Is it a go?"

"Pardner, " said Creede, rising up solemnly from his place, "I want toshake with you on that. "

The next morning, with a package of letters in the crown of his blackhat, Jefferson Creede swam Bat Wings across the swift current of theSalagua, hanging onto his tail from behind, and without even stoppingto pour the water out of his boots struck into the long trail forBender. 

One week passed, and then another, and at last he came back, wet anddripping from his tussle with the river, and cursing the very name ofdetectives. 

"W'y, shucks!" he grumbled. "I bummed around in town there for twoweeks, hatin' myself and makin' faces at a passel of ornery sheepmen, and what do I git for my trouble? 'Dear Mister Creede, your letter ofumpty-ump received. We have detailed Detective Moriarty on this caseand will report later. Yours truly!' That's all--keep the change--wemake a livin' off of suckers--and they's one born every minute. Tohell with these detectives! Well, I never received nothin' more andfinally I jumped at a poor little bandy-legged sheep-herder, a crossbetween a gorilla and a Digger Injun--scared him to death. But Ipulled my freight quick before we had any international complications. Don't mention Mr. Allan Q. Rinkerton to me, boy, or I'll throw a fit. Say, " he said, changing the subject abruptly, "how many hundredthousand sheep d'ye think I saw, comin' up from Bender? Well, sir, they was sheep as far as the eye could see--millions of 'em--andthey've got that plain et down to the original sand and cactus, already. W'y, boy, if we let them sheepmen in on us this Spring we'lllook like a watermelon patch after a nigger picnic; we'll be cleanedlike Pablo Moreno; they won't be pickin's for a billy goat! And Jim'n' Jasp have been ribbin' their herders on scandalous. This littlebandy-legged son-of-a-goat that I jumped at down in Bender actuallyhad the nerve to say that I killed Juan Alvarez myself. Think of that, will ye, and me twenty miles away at the time! But I reckon if youtook Jasp to pieces you'd find out he was mad over them three thousandwethers--value six dollars per--that I stompeded. The dastard! D'yesee how he keeps away from me? Well, I'm goin' to call the _rodéo_right away and work that whole upper range, and when the river goesdown you'll find Jeff Creede right there with the goods if Jasp islookin' for trouble. Read them letters, boy, and tell me if I'm goin'to have the old judge on my hands, too. "

According to the letters, he was; and the boss was also lookingforward with pleasure to her visit in the Spring. 

"Well, wouldn't that jar you, " commented Creede, and then he laughedslyly. "Cheer up, " he said, "it might be worse--they's nothin' saidabout Kitty Bonnair. "

Sure enough--not a word about Kitty, and the year before Lucy hadspoken about her in every letter! There was something mysterious aboutit, and sinister; they both felt it. 

And when at last the wagon came in, bearing only Judge Ware and Lucy, somehow even Jeff's sore heart was touched by a sense of loss. Butwhile others might dissemble, Bill Lightfoot's impulsive nature madeno concealment of its chiefest thought. 

"Where's Miss Bunnair?" he demanded, as soon as Lucy Ware was free, and there was a sudden lull in the conversation roundabout as thecowboys listened for the answer. 

"I'm sorry, " said Miss Ware, politely evasive, "but she wasn't able tocome with me. "

"She'll be down bimeby, though, won't she?" persisted Lightfoot; andwhen Lucy finally answered with a vague "Perhaps" he turned to theassembled cowboys with a triumphant grin. "Um, now, what'd I tellyou!" he said; and one and all they scowled and stabbed him with theireyes. 

The _rodéo_ camp was already established beneath the big mesquite, andwhile three or four careless cowmen held the day herd over against themesa the rest of the outfit was busy raking The Rolls. It was all verydifferent from what Judge Ware and Lucy had anticipated. There was nosign of excitement in their midst, no ostentatious display of arms orposting of patrols, and what surprised the judge most of all was thatin their friendly gatherings around the fire there was no one, saveHardy, who would argue against the sheep. 

The judge had been on to Washington and was possessed of all thematerial facts, but nobody was interested any more in the SalaguaForest Reserve; he had consulted with the Chief Forester and even withthe President himself, laying before them the imminence of the danger, and they had assured him that everything possible would be done torelieve the situation. Did it not, then, he demanded, behoove thelaw-abiding residents of prospective forest reserves to coöperate withsuch an enlightened administration, even at the risk of some temporarypersonal loss? And with one voice the Four Peaks cowmen agreed that itdid. There was something eerie about it--the old judge was dazed bytheir acquiescence. 

Of all the cowmen at Hidden Water, Rufus Hardy was the only man whowould discuss the matter at length. A change had come over him now; hewas very thin and quiet, with set lines along his jaw, but instead ofriding nervously up and down the river as he had the year before helingered idly about the ranch, keeping tally at the branding andentertaining his guests. No matter how pedantic or polemical the oldjudge became, Hardy was willing to listen to him; and Lucy, hoveringin the background, would often smile to hear them argue, the judgelaying down the law and equity of the matter and Rufus meeting himlike an expert swordsman with parry and thrust. Day by day, hisprejudice wearing away from lack of any real opposition, Judge Warebecame more and more pleased with his daughter's superintendent; butLucy herself was troubled. There was a look in his eyes that she hadnever seen before, a set and haggard stare that came when he satalone, and his head was always turned aside, as if he were listening. The sheep came trooping in from the south, marching in long lines tothe river's edge, and still he sat quiet, just inside the door, listening. 

"Tell me, Rufus, " she said, one day when her father was inspecting theupper range with Creede, "what is it that made you so sad? Isit--Kitty?"

For a minute he gazed at her, a faint smile on his lips. 

"No, " he said, at last, "it is not Kitty. " And then he lapsed backinto silence, his head turned as before. 

The wind breathed through the _corredor_, bringing with it a distant, plaintive bleating--the sheep, waiting beyond the turbid river tocross. 

"I have forgotten about Kitty, " he said absently. "For me there isnothing in the world but sheep. Can't you hear them bleating downthere?" he cried, throwing out his hands. "Can't you smell them? Ah, Lucy, if you knew sheep as I do! I never hear a sheep now that I don'tthink of that day last year when they came pouring out of Hell's HipPocket with a noise like the end of the world. If I had been there tostop them they might never have taken the range--but after that, allthrough the hot summer when the cattle were dying for feed, every timethe wind came up and roared in my ears I would hear sheep--_baaa_, _baaa_--and now I hear them again. "

He paused and looked up at her intently. 

"Do you know what that noise means to me?" he demanded, almostroughly. "It means little calves dying around the water hole; motherslowing for their little ones that they have left to starve; it meanslong lines of cows following me out over the mesa for brush, and allthe trees cut down. Ah, Lucy, how can your father talk of waiting whenit means as much as that?"

"But last year was a drought, " protested Lucy pitifully. "Will it beas bad this year?"

"Every bit! Did you notice that plain between Bender and the river? Itwill be like that in a week if we let them cross the river. "

"Oh, " cried Lucy, "then you--do you mean to turn them back?"

"The river is very high, " answered Hardy sombrely. "They cannotcross. " And then as a quail strikes up leaves and dust to hide hernest, he launched forth quickly upon a story of the flood. 

The Salagua was long in flood that Spring. Day after day, while thesheep wandered uneasily along its banks rearing up to strip the lastremnants of browse from the tips of willows and burro bushes, itrolled ponderously forth from its black-walled gorge and flowed pastthe crossing, deep and strong, sucking evenly into the turbidwhirlpool that waited for its prey. At the first approach of theinvaders the unconsidered zeal of Judge Ware overcame him; he was forpeace, reason, the saner judgment that comes from wider views and ariper mind, and, fired by the hope of peaceful truce, he rodefurtively along the river waving a white handkerchief whenever he sawa sheep-herder, and motioning him to cross. But however anxious he wasfor an interview the desires of the sheepmen did not lean in thatdirection, and they only stared at him stolidly or pretended not tosee. 

Thwarted in his efforts for peace the judge returned to camp deep inthought. The sheep were at his very door and nothing had been done tostay them; a deadly apathy seemed to have settled down upon thecowmen; after all their threats there were no preparations fordefence; the river was not even patrolled; and yet if quick action wasnot taken the upper range might be irreparably ruined before thereserve was proclaimed. Not that he would countenance violence, but ajudicious show of resistance, for instance, might easily delay thecrossing until the President could act, or even so daunt the invadersthat they would go around. It was not strictly legal, of course, butthe judge could see no harm in suggesting it, and as soon as thecowmen were gathered about their fire that evening he went out and satdown by Creede, who lay sprawled on his back, his head pillowed on hishands, smoking. 

"Well, Jefferson, " he began, feeling his way cautiously, "I see thatthe sheep have come down to the river--they will be making a crossingsoon, I suppose?"

Creede sucked studiously upon his cigarette, and shifted it to acorner of his mouth. 

"W'y yes, Judge, " he said, "I reckon they will. "

"Well--er--do you think they intend to invade our upper range thisyear?"

"Sure thing, " responded Creede, resuming his smoke, "that's what theycome up here for. You want to take a last long look at this grass. "

"Yes, but, Jefferson, " protested the judge, opening up his eyes, "whatwill our cattle feed upon then?"

"Same old thing, " answered Creede, "_palo verde_ and giant cactus. I've got most of mine in the town herd. "

"What!" exclaimed Judge Ware, astounded at the suggestion, "you don'tmean to say that you are preparing to go out of business? Why, my dearJefferson, this country may be set aside as a forest reserve at anyminute--and think of the privileges you will be giving up! As an ownerof cattle already grazing upon the range you will be entitled to thefirst consideration of the Government; you will be granted the firstgrazing permit; there will be forest rangers to protect you; thesheep, being transient stock and known to be very destructive toforest growth, will undoubtedly be confined to a narrow trail farbelow us; by the payment of a nominal grazing fee you will beabsolutely guaranteed in all your rights and watched over by theFederal Government!"

"Oh, hell!" exclaimed the big cowboy, rising up suddenly from hisplace, "don't talk Government to me, whatever you do! W'y, Judge, " hecried, throwing out his hands, "they ain't no Government here. Theyain't no law. I could go over and kill one of them sheep-herders andyou wouldn't see an officer in two days. I've lived here for nigh ontotwenty-six years and the nearest I ever come to seein' the Governmentwas a mule branded 'U. S. '"

He stopped abruptly and, striding out into the darkness, picked up alog of wood and laid it carefully upon the fire. 

"Judge, " he said, turning suddenly and wagging an accusing finger athis former employer, "I've heard a lot from you about this reserve, how the President was goin' to telegraph you the news the minute hesigned the proclamation, and send a ranger in to protect the range, and all that, but I ain't seen you _do_ nothin'! Now if you're goin'to make good you've got jest about three days to do it in--after thatthe sheep will have us dished. Maybe you could use your pull to kinderhurry things up a little--do a little telegraphin', or somethin' likethat. "

"I'll do it!" cried the judge, taking the bait like a fish, "I'll doit at once! I want your best horse, Jeff, and a guide. I'll wire thechief forester from Bender!"

"Keno!" said Creede sententiously, "and give my regards to Teddy. "

As the old judge disappeared over the western rim the next morningthe _rodéo_ boss smiled grimly behind his hand, and glancedsignificantly at Hardy. Then, with the outfit behind him, he rodeslowly up the cañon, leaving his partner to his steady job as"family man"--entertaining the boss. 

For two days the sheepmen watched the river eagerly, waiting for adrop; then suddenly, as the snow water ran by and a cool day checkedthe distant streams, it fell, and the swift pageant of the crossingbegan. At sun-up a boss herder rode boldly out into the current andswam it with his horse; brawny Mexicans leapt into the thicket of_palo verdes_ that grew against the cliff and cut branches to build achute; Jasper Swope in his high sombrero and mounted on his black mulegalloped down from the hidden camp and urged his men along. Still thesame ominous silence hung about the shore where Juan Alvarez layburied beneath the cross. There was no watcher on Lookout Point, nohorsemen lurking in the distance; only the lowing of the day herd, farup the cañon, and the lapping of muddy waters. Across the river thelow _malpai_ cliffs rose up like ramparts against them and Black Buttefrowned down upon them like a watch tower, but of the men who might bethere watching there was no sign. 

The sheepman studied upon the situation for a while; then he sent amessenger flying back to camp and soon a hardy band of wethers camedown, led by an advance guard of goats, and their plaintive bleatingechoed in a confused chorus from the high cliffs as they entered thewings of the chute. Already the camp rustlers had driven them outon the slanting rock and encircled the first cut with their canvaswagon cover, when Jasper Swope held up his hand for them to stop. Atthe last moment and for no cause he hesitated, touched by somepremonition, or suspicious of the silent shore. One after anotherthe herders clambered back and squatted idly against the coolcliff, smoking and dangling their polished carbines; the sheep, leftstanding upon the rock, huddled together and stood motionless; thegoats leapt nimbly up on adjacent bowlders and gazed across theriver intently; then, throwing up his hand again, the sheepmanspurred his black mule recklessly into the water, waving his big hatas he motioned for the sheep to cross. 

As the long hours of that portentous morning wore on, palpitating tothe clamor of the sheep, a great quiet settled upon Hidden Water. Sitting just within the door Hardy watched Lucy as she went about herwork, but his eyes were wandering and haggard and he glanced from timeto time at the Black Butte that stood like a sentinel against thecrossing. In the intervals of conversation the bleating of the sheeprose suddenly from down by the river, and ceased; he talked on, feverishly, never stopping for an answer, and Lucy looked at himstrangely, as if wondering at his preoccupation. Again the deeptremolo rose up, echoing from the cliffs, and Hardy paused in themidst of a story to listen. He was still staring out the doorway whenLucy Ware came over and laid her hand on his shoulder. 

"Rufus, " she said, "what is it you are always listening for? Day afterday I see you watching here by the door, and when I talk you listenfor something else. Tell me--is it--are you watching for Kitty?"

"Kitty?" repeated Hardy, his eyes still intent. "Why no; why should Ibe watching for her?"

At his answer, spoken so impassively, she drew away quickly, but hecaught her hand and stopped her. 

"Ah no, " he said, "if I could only listen for something else it wouldbe better--but all I hear is sheep. I'm like old Bill Johnson; I canstill shoot straight and find my way in the mountains, but every timeI hear a sheep blat I change. Poor old Bill, he's over across theriver there now; the boys have heard his hounds baying up in the highcliffs for a week. I've seen him a time or two since he took to thehills and he's just as quiet and gentle with me as if he were myfather, but if anybody mentions sheep he goes raving crazy in aminute. Jeff says he's been that way himself for years, and now it'sgot me, too. If I get much worse, " he ended, suddenly glancing up ather with a wistful smile, "you'll have to take me away. "

"Away!" cried Lucy eagerly, "would you go? You know father and I havetalked of it time and again, but you just stick and stick, and nothingwill make you leave. But listen--what was that?"

A succession of rifle shots, like the popping of wet logs over a fire, came dully to their ears, muffled by the bleating of sheep and theechoing of the cliffs. Hardy leapt to his feet and listened intently, his eyes burning with suppressed excitement; then he steppedreluctantly back into the house and resumed his seat. 

"I guess it's only those Mexican herders, " he said. "They shoot thatway to drive their sheep. "

"But look!" cried Lucy, pointing out the door, "the Black Butte isafire! Just see that great smoke!"

Hardy sprang up again and dashed out into the open. The popping ofthirty-thirtys had ceased, but from the summit of the square-toppedbutte a signal fire rose up to heaven, tall and straight and black. 

"Aha!" he muttered, and without looking at her he ran out to thecorral to saddle Chapuli. But when he came back he rode slowly, checking the impatience of his horse, until at last he dismountedbeside her. For days his eyes had been furtive and evasive, but now atlast they were steady. 

"Lucy, " he said, "I haven't been very honest with you, but I guess youknow what this means--the boys are turning back the sheep. " His voicewas low and gentle, and he stood very straight before her, like asoldier. Yet, even though she sensed what was in his mind, Lucysmiled. For a month he had been to her like another man, a man withoutemotion or human thought, and now in a moment he had come back, theold Rufus that she had known in her heart so long. 

"Yes, " she said, holding out her hand to him, "I knew it. But you areworking for me, you know, and I cannot let you go. Listen, Rufus, " shepleaded, as he drew away, "have I ever refused you anything? Tell mewhat you want to do. "

"I want to go down there and help turn back those sheep, " he said, bluntly. "You know me, Lucy--my heart is in this fight--my friends arein it--and I must go. "

He waited for some answer, but Lucy only turned away. There were tearsin her eyes when she looked back at him and her lips trembled, but shepassed into the house without a word. Hardy gazed wonderingly afterher and his heart smote him; she was like some sensitive little childto whom every rough word was a blow, and he had hurt her. He glancedat the signal fire that rolled up black and sombre as the watcherpiled green brush upon it, then he dropped his bridle rein and steppedquickly into the house. 

"You must forgive me, Lucy, " he said, standing humbly at the door. "I--I am changed. But do not think that I will come to any harm--thisis not a battle against men, but sheep. No one will be killed. And nowmay I go?" Once more his voice became low and gentle and he stoodbefore her like some questing knight before his queen, but she onlysat gazing at him with eyes that he could not understand. 

"Listen, Lucy, " he cried, "I will not go unless you tell me--and nowmay I go?"

A smile came over Lucy's face but she did not speak her thoughts. 

"If you will stay for my sake, " she said, "I shall be very happy, butI will not hold you against your will. Oh, Rufus, Rufus!" she cried, suddenly holding out her hands, "can't you understand? I can't setmyself against you, and yet--think what it is to be a woman!" She roseup and stood before him, the soft light glowing in her eyes, and Hardystepped forward to meet her; but in that moment a drumming of hoofsechoed through the doorway, there was a rush of horsemen leaningforward as they rode, and then Jefferson Creede thundered by, glancingback as he spurred down the cañon to meet the sheep. 

"My God!" whispered Hardy, following his flight with startled eyes, and as the rout of cowboys flashed up over the top of Lookout Pointand were gone he bowed his head in silence. 

"Lucy, " he said, at last, "my mind has been far away. I--I have notseen what was before me, and I shall always be the loser. But look--Ihave two friends in all the world, you and Jeff, and you are thedearer by far. But you could see as Jeff went by that he was mad. Whathe will do at the river I can only guess; he is crazy, and a crazy manwill do anything. But if I am with him I can hold him back--will youlet me go?" He held out his hands and as Lucy took them she saw forthe first time in his shy eyes--love. For a moment she gazed at himwistfully, but her heart never faltered. Whatever his will might beshe would never oppose it, now that she had his love. 

"Yes, Rufus, " she said, "you may go, but remember--me. "

CHAPTER XXIII

THE LAST CROSSING

The rush and thunder of cow ponies as they hammered over the trail andplunged down through the rocks and trees had hardly lost its echoes inthe cliffs when, with a flash of color and a dainty pattering ofhoofs, Chapuli came flying over the top of Lookout Point and dashed upthe river after them. The cowmen had left their horses in the deepravine at the end of the _malpai_ bluffs and were already crouchedbehind the rampart of the rim rocks as close as Indian fighters, eachby some loophole in the blackened _malpai_, with a rifle in his hand. As Hardy crept in from behind, Jeff Creede motioned him to a place athis side greeting him at the same time with a broad grin. 

"Hello, sport, " he said, "couldn't keep out of it, eh? Well, we needye, all right. Here, you can hold straighter than I can; take my gunand shoot rainbows around the leaders when they start to comeacross. "

"Not much, " answered Hardy, waving the gun away, "I just came down tokeep you out of trouble. "

"Ye-es!" jeered Creede, "first thing I know you'll be down therefightin' 'em back with rocks. But say, " he continued, "d'ye noticeanything funny up on that cliff? Listen, now!"

Hardy turned his head, and soon above the clamor of the sheep he madeout the faint "_Owwp! Owwwp!_" of hounds. 

"It's Bill Johnson, isn't it?" he said, and Creede nodded significantly. 

"God help them pore sheepmen, " he observed, "if Bill has got histhirty-thirty. Listen to 'em sing, will ye! Ain't they happy, though?And they don't give a dam' for us--ump-um--they're comin' acrossanyway. Well, that's what keeps hell crowded--let 'er go!"

There was a glitter of carbines against the opposite cliffs where thespare herders had taken to cover, but out on the rocky point where thechute led into the river a gang of Mexicans and two Americans wereleading their wagon cover around a fresh cut of goats and sheep. Onthe sand bar far below the stragglers from the first cut, turned backin the initial rush, were wandering aimlessly about or plodding backto the herd, but the sheepmen with bullheaded persistence werepreparing to try again. Chief among them towered the boss, JasperSwope, wet to the waist from swimming across the river; and as hemotioned to the herders to go ahead he ran back and mounted his muleagain. With a barbaric shout the Mexicans surged forward on thetarpaulin, sweeping their cut to the very edge; then, as the goats settheir feet and held back, a swarthy herder leapt into the midst andtumbled them, sheep and goats alike, into the water. Like plummetsthey went down into the slow-moving depths, some headfirst, somefalling awkwardly on their backs or slipping like beavers on a slide;there was a prolonged and mighty splash and then, one by one the headsbobbed up and floated away until, led by the high-horned goats, theystruck out for the opposite shore. Below, yelling and throwing stonesto frighten them, a line of Mexicans danced up and down along therocky shore, and to keep them from drifting into the whirlpool JasperSwope plunged boldly into the water on his mule. 

Sink or swim, the sheep were in the water, and for a minute there wasa tense silence along the river; then, as the goats lined out, a rifleshot echoed from the cliffs and a white column of water rose up beforethe leader. He shook his head, hesitated and looked back, and oncemore the water splashed in his face, while the deep _ploomp_ of thebullet answered to the shot. Fighting away from the sudden stroke thegoat lost his headway and, drifting, fouled those below him; a suddenconfusion fell upon the orderly ranks of the invaders and, like aflock of geese whose leader is killed, they jostled against oneanother, some intent on the farther shore and some struggling to turnback. Instantly a chorus of savage shouts rose up from along theriver, the shrill yells of the cowboys mingling with the whooping andwhistling of the sheepmen, until at last, overcome by the hostileclamor, the timid sheep turned back toward the main herd, drawing withthem the goats. For a minute Jasper Swope fought against them, wavinghis hat and shouting; then, rather than see them drift too far and bedrawn into the clutch of the whirlpool, he whipped his mule about andled them back to the shore. 

A second time, calling out all his men to help, the boss sheepmantried to cross the goats alone, intending to hold them on the shorefor a lure; but just as they were well lined out the same carefulmarksman behind the _malpai_ threw water in their faces and turnedthem back. But this time Jasper Swope did not lead the retreat. Slapping his black mule over the ears with his hat he held straightfor the opposite shore, cursing and brandishing his gun. 

"You dam', cowardly passel of tail-twisters!" he cried, shaking hisfist at the bluffs, "why don't you come out into the open like men?"

But a grim silence was his only answer. 

"Hey, you bold bad man from Bitter Creek, Texas!" he shouted, ridingcloser to the beach. "Why don't you come down and fight me like aman?" His big voice was trembling with excitement and he held hispistol balanced in the air as if awaiting an attack, but JeffersonCreede did not answer him. 

"I'll fight you, man to man, you big blowhard!" thundered Swope, "andthere goes my pistol to prove it!" He rose in his stirrups as he spokeand hurled it away from him, throwing his cartridge belt after it. "_Now_, " he yelled, "you've been sayin' what you'd do; come out ofyour hole, Jeff Creede, I want ye!"

"Well, you won't git me, then, " answered Creede, his voice coming coldand impassive from over the rim. "I'll fight you some other time. "

"Ahrr!" taunted Swope, "hear the coward talk! Here I stand, unarmed, and he's afraid to come out! But if there's a man amongst you, sendhim down, and if he licks me I'll go around. "

"You'll go around anyhow, you Mormon-faced wool-puller!" replied thecowman promptly, "and we're here to see to it, so you might as wellchase yourself. "

"No, I like this side, " said the sheepman, pretending to admire thescenery. "I'll jest stay here a while, and then I'll cross in spite ofye. If I can't cross here, " he continued, "I'll wait for the river tofall and cross down below--and then I'll sheep you to the rocks, youlow-lived, skulkin' murderers! It's a wonder some of you don't shoot_me_ the way you did Juan Alvarez, down there. " He waved his handtoward the point where the wooden cross rose against the sky, but noone answered the taunt. 

"_Murderers_, I said!" he shouted, rising up in his saddle. "I callyou murderers before God A'mighty and there ain't a man denies it! Oh, my Mexicans can see that cross--they're lookin' at it now--and whenthe river goes down they'll come in on you, if it's only to break evenfor Juan. "

He settled back in his saddle and gazed doubtfully at the bluff, andthen at the opposite shore. Nature had placed him at a disadvantage, for the river was wide and deep and his sheep were easy to turn, yetthere was still a chance. 

"Say, " he began, moderating his voice to a more conciliatory key, "I'll tell you what I'll do. There's no use shooting each other overthis. Send down your best man--if he licks me I go around; if I lickhim I come across. Is it a go?"

There was a short silence and then an argument broke out along thebluff, a rapid fire of exhortation and protest, some urging Creede totake him up, others clamoring for peace. 

"No!" shouted Jefferson Creede, raising his voice angrily above theuproar. "I won't do it! I wouldn't trust a sheepman as far as I couldthrow a bull by the tail! You'd sell your black soul for two bits, Jasp Swope, " he observed, peering warily over the top of the rock, "and you'd shoot a man in the back, too!"

"But look at me!" cried Swope, dropping off his mule, "I'm stripped tomy shirt; there goes my gun into the water--and I'm on your side ofthe river! You're a coward, Jeff Creede, and I always knowed it!"

"But my head ain't touched, " commented Creede dryly. "I've got youstopped anyhow. What kind of a dam' fool would I be to fight overit?"

"I'll fight ye for nothin', then!" bellowed the sheepman. "I'll--" Hestopped abruptly and a great quiet fell upon both shores. From themouth of the hidden ravine a man had suddenly stepped into the open, unarmed, and now he was coming out across the sands to meet him. Itwas Rufus Hardy, dwarfed like David before Goliath in the presence ofthe burly sheepman, but striding over the hard-packed sand with thelithe swiftness of a panther. 

"_I'll_ fight you, " he said, raising his hand in challenge, butSwope's answer was drowned in a wild yell from Creede. 

"Come back here, Rufe, you durn' fool!" he called. "Come back, I tellye! Don't you know better than to trust a sheepman?"

"Never mind, now, " answered Hardy, turning austerely to the bluff. "Iguess I can take care of myself. "

He swung about and advanced to the stretch of level sand where Swopewas standing. "What guarantee do I get, " he demanded sharply, "that ifI lick you in a fair fight the sheep will go around?"

"You--lick--me!" repeated the sheepman, showing his jagged teeth in asardonic grin. "Well, I'll tell ye, Willie; if you hit me with thatlily-white hand of yourn, and I find it out the same day, I'll promiseto stay off'n your range for a year. "

"All right, " replied Hardy, suddenly throwing away his hat. "Younoticed it when I hit you before, didn't you?" he inquired, edgingquickly in on his opponent and beginning an amazing bout of shadowboxing. "Well, _come on_, _then_!" He laughed as Swope struck out athim, and continued his hectoring banter. "As I remember it your headhit the ground before your heels!"

Then in a whirlwind of blows and feints they came together. It was theold story of science against brute strength. Jasper Swope was arough-and-tumble fighter of note; he was quick, too, in spite of hisweight, and his blows were like the strokes of a sledge; but Hardy didnot attempt to stand up against him. For the first few minutes it wasmore of a chase than a fight, and in that the sheepman was at hisworst, cumbered by his wet clothes and the water in his shoes. Timeand again he rushed in upon his crouching opponent, who always seemedin the act of delivering a blow and yet at the moment only sidesteppedand danced away. The hard wet sand was ploughed and trampled withtheir tracks, the records of a dozen useless plunges, when suddenlyinstead of dodging Hardy stepped quickly forward, his "lily-whitehand" shot out, and Jasper Swope's head went back with a jerk. 

"You son-of-a-goat!" he yelled, as the blood ran down his face, andlowering his head he bored in upon Hardy furiously. Once more Hardysidestepped, but the moment his enemy turned he flew at him like atiger, raining blows upon his bloody face in lightning succession. 

"_Huh_!" grunted the sheepman, coughing like a wood-chopper as hestruck back through the storm, and the chance blow found its mark. Fora moment Hardy staggered, clutching at his chest; but as Swope sprangforward to finish his work he ducked and slipped aside, stumbling likea man about to drop. 

A shrill yell went up from the farther shore as Hardy stood swaying inhis tracks, and a fierce shout of warning from the bluff; but JasperSwope was implacable. Brushing the blood from his eyes he steppeddeliberately forward and aimed a blow that would have felled an ox, straight at his enemy's head. It missed; the drooping head snappeddown like Judy before Punch and rose up again, truculently; thenbefore the sheepman could regain his balance Hardy threw his wholestrength into a fierce uppercut that laid Swope sprawling on hisback. 

A howl of triumph and derision rose up from the rim of the bluff asthe burly sheepman went down, but it changed to a sudden shout ofwarning as he scrambled back to his feet again. There was somethingindescribably vengeful about him as he whirled upon his enemy, and hishand went inside his torn shirt in a gesture not to be mistaken. 

[Illustration: Threw the sand full in his face]

"Look out there, Rufe!" yelled Creede, leaping up from behind his rockpile. "Run! _Jump into the river_!" But instead Hardy grabbed up ahandful of sand and ran in upon his adversary. The pistol stuck for amoment in its hidden sling and as Swope wrenched it loose and turnedto shoot, Hardy made as if to close with him and then threw the sandfull in his face. It was only an instant's respite but as the sheepmanblinked and struck the dirt from his eyes the little cowman wheeledand made a dash for the river. "_Look out_!" screamed Creede, as thegun flashed out and came to a point, and like a bullfrog Hardy hurledhimself far out into the eddying water. Then like the sudden voice ofNemesis, protesting against such treachery, a rifle shot rang out fromthe towering crags that overshadowed the river and Jasper Swope fellforward, dead. His pistol smashed against a rock and exploded, but theman he had set himself to kill was already buried beneath the turbidwaters. So swiftly did it all happen that no two men saw thesame--some were still gazing at the body of Jasper Swope; others werestaring up at the high cliff whence the shot had come; but Jeff Creedehad eyes only for the river and when he saw Hardy's head bob up, halfway to the whirlpool, and duck again to escape the bullets, heleapt up and ran for his horse. Then Bill Johnson's rifle rang outagain from the summit of his high cliff, and every man scrambled forcover. 

A Mexican herder dropped his gun suddenly and slipped down behind arock; and his _compadres_, not knowing from whence the hostile firecame, pushed out their carbines and began to shoot wildly; the deepcañon reverberated to the rattle of thirty-thirtys and the steady_crack_, _crack_ of the rifle above threw the sheep camp intoconfusion. There was a shout as Creede dashed recklessly out into theopen and the sand leapt up in showers behind him, but Bat Wings wasrunning like the wind and the bullets went wide of their mark. 

Swinging beneath the mesquite trees and scrambling madly over stonesand bushes he hammered up the slope of Lookout Point and disappearedin a cloud of dirt, but as Hardy drifted around the bend and floatedtoward the whirlpool there was a crash of brush from down the riverand Creede came battering through the trees to the shore. Taking downhis _reata_ as he rode he leapt quickly off his horse and ran out onthe big flat rock from which they had often fished together. At hisfeet the turbid current rolled ponderously against the solid wall ofrock and, turning back upon itself, swung round in an ever-lesseningcircle until it sucked down suddenly into a spiral vortex that spewedup all it caught in the boiling channel below. There in years past thelambs and weaklings from the herds above had drifted to their death, but never before had the maelstrom claimed a man. 

Swimming weakly with the current Hardy made a last ineffectual effortto gain the bank; then fixing his eyes upon his partner he resignedhimself to the drag of the whirlpool, staking his life on a singlethrow of the rope. Once the plaited rawhide was wetted it would twistand bind in the _honda_ and before Creede could beat it straight andcoil it his partner would be far out in the centre of the vortex. Planting his feet firmly on the rock the big cowboy lashed the kinksout of his _reata_ and coiled it carefully; then as the first broadswirl seized its plaything and swung him slowly around Creede let outa big loop and began to swing it about his head, his teeth showing ina tense grin as he fixed his eyes upon the mark. At each turn hiswrist flexed and his back swayed with a willowy suppleness but exceptfor that he was like a herculean statue planted upon the point. 

The maelstrom heaved and rocked as it swung its victim nearer and likea thing with life seemed suddenly to hurry him past; then as Hardycried out and held up a hand for help the rope cut through the airlike a knife and the loop shot far out across the boiling water. Itwas a long throw, fifty feet from the rock, and the last coil had lefthis tense fingers before the noose fell, but it splashed a circleclean and true about the uplifted hand. For a moment the cowboywaited, watching; then as the heavy rope sank behind his partner'sshoulders he took in his slack with a jerk. The noose tightenedbeneath Hardy's arms and held him against the insistent tug of theriver; and while the whirlpool roared and foamed against his bodyCreede hauled him forth roughly, until, stooping down, he gathered himinto his arms like a child. 

"My God, boy, " he said, "you're takin' big chances, for a familyman--but say, what did I tell you about sheepmen?"

 * * * * *

The Mexicans were still firing random shots along the river whenCreede lifted his partner up on Bat Wings and carried him back toHidden Water. Long before they reached the house they could see Lucystanding in the doorway, and Hardy held himself painfully erect in thesaddle, with Creede steadying him from behind; but when Bat Wingshalted before the _ramada_ Jeff broke rudely in on the play acting bytaking the little man in his arms and depositing him on a bed. 

"Fell into the river, " he said, turning with a reassuring smile toLucy, "but he ain't hurt none--only kinder weak, you know. I reckon alittle hot tea would help some, bein' as we're out of whiskey, andwhile you're brewin' it I'll git these wet clothes off. Yes'm, we'rehavin' a little trouble, but that's only them locoed Mexicans shootin'off their spare ammunition. " He dragged up a cot as he spoke and washurriedly arranging a bed when Lucy interposed. 

"Oh, but don't leave him out here!" she protested, "put him back inhis own room, where I can take care of him. "

"All right, " said Creede, and picking him up from his bare cot beneaththe _ramada_ he carried Hardy into the little room where he had livedbefore Lucy Ware came. "I guess your troubles are over for a while, pardner, " he remarked, as he tucked him into the clean white bed, andthen with a wise look at Lucy he slipped discreetly out the door. 

As she entered with the tea Hardy was lying very limp and whiteagainst the pillow, but after the hot drink he opened his big grayeyes and looked up at her sombrely. 

"Sit down, " he said, speaking with elaborate exactness, "I want totell you something. " He reached out and took her hand, and as hetalked he clung to it appealingly. "Lucy, " he began, "I didn't forgetabout you when I went down there, but--well, when Jasper Swope cameout and challenged us my hair began to bristle like a dog's--and thenext thing I knew I was fighting. He said if I licked him he'd goround--but you can't trust these sheepmen. When he saw he was whippedhe tried to shoot me, and I had to jump into the river. Oh, I'm allright now, but--listen, Lucy!" He drew her down to him, insistently. "Can't you forgive me, this time?" he whispered, and when she noddedhe closed his heavy eyes and fell asleep. 

When he awoke in the morning there was nothing to show for his fiercefight with Swope or his battle with the river--nothing but a greatweariness and a wistful look in his eyes. But all day while the boysrode back and forth from the river he lay in bed, looking dreamily outthrough the barred window or following Lucy with furtive glances asshe flitted in and out. Whenever she came near he smiled, and oftenthe soft light crept into his eyes, but when by chance he touched herhand or she brushed back his hair a great quiet settled upon him andhe turned his face away. 

It was Creede who first took notice of his preoccupation and after aseries of unsatisfactory visits he beckoned Lucy outside the door witha solemn jerk of the head. 

"Say, " he said, "that boy's got something on his mind--I can tell bythem big eyes of his. Any idee what it is?"

"Why, no, " answered Lucy, blushing before his searching gaze, "unlessit's the sheep. "

"Nope, " said Creede, "it ain't that. I tried to talk sheep and hewouldn't listen to me. This here looks kinder bad, " he observed, shaking his head ominously. "I don't like it--layin' in bed all dayand thinkin' that way. W'y, that'd make _me_ sick!"

He edged awkwardly over to where she was standing and lowered hisvoice confidentially. 

"I'll tell you, Miss Lucy, " he said, "I've known Rufe a long time now, and he's awful close-mouthed. He's always thinkin' about somethingaway off yonder, too--but this is different. Now of course I don'tknow nothin' about it, but I think all that boy needs is a littlebabyin', to make him fergit his troubles. Yes'm, that boy's lonely. Bein' sick this way has took the heart out of 'im and made 'im sorryfor himself, like a kid that wants his mother. And so--well, " he said, turning abruptly away, "that's all, jest thought I'd tell you. " Hepulled down his hat, swung dexterously up on Bat Wings and gallopedaway down the valley, waving his hand at the barred window as hepassed. 

Long after the clatter of hoofs had ceased Lucy stood in the shade ofthe _ramada_, gazing pensively at the fire-blasted buttes and thetender blue mountains beyond. How could such rugged hillsides producemen who were always gentle, men whose first thought was always ofthose who loved them and never of fighting and blood? It was a land ofhardships and strife and it left its mark on them all. The Rufus thatshe had known before had seemed different from all other men, and shehad loved him for it, even when all his thought was for Kitty; but nowin two short years he had become stern and headstrong in his ways; hiseyes that had smiled up at her so wistfully when he had first comeback from the river were set and steady again like a soldier's, and helay brooding upon some hidden thing that his lips would never speak. Her mutinous heart went out to him at every breath, now that he laythere so still; at a word she could kneel at his side and own that shehad always loved him; but his mind was far away and he took nothought of her weakness. He was silent--and she must be a woman to theend, a voiceless suppliant, a slave that waits, unbidden, a chip onthe tide that carries it to some safe haven or hurries it out to sea. 

With downcast eyes she turned back into the house, going about herwork with the quiet of a lover who listens for some call, and as shepassed to and fro she felt his gaze upon her. At last she looked upand when she met his glance she went in and stood beside his bed. 

"What is it you want, Rufus?" she asked, and his face lit up suddenlyas he answered with his eloquent eyes, but he could not speak theword. 

"Who am I?" he murmured, musingly, "to ask for all the world?" But heheld close to the little hands and as he felt their yielding hisbreath came hard and he gazed up at her with infinite tenderness. 

"Dear Lucy, " he said, "you do not know me. I am a coward--it was bornin me--I cannot help it. Not with men!" he cried, his eyes lightingup. "Ah, no; my father was a soldier, and I can fight--but--"

He paused and his vehemence died away suddenly. "Lucy, " he beganagain, still clinging to her hands for courage, "you have neverlaughed at me--you have always been gentle and patient--I will tellyou something. You know how I ran away from Kitty, and how when shecame down here I avoided her. I was afraid, Lucy, and yet--well, it isall over now. " He sighed and turned restlessly on his pillow. "One dayI met her up the river and she--she called me a coward. Not by theword--but I knew. That was the day before the sheep came in throughHell's Hip Pocket, and even Jeff doesn't know of the fights I had thatnight. I went out yesterday and fought Jasper Swope with my bare handsto wipe the shame away--but it's no use, I'm a coward yet. " He groanedand turned his face to the wall but Lucy only sighed and brushed backhis hair. For a minute he lay there, tense and still; then as her handsoothed him he turned and his voice became suddenly soft andcaressing, as she had always liked it best. 

"Don't laugh at me for it, Lucy, " he said, "I love you--but I'mafraid. " He caught her hands again, gazing up wistfully into her eyes, and when she smiled through her tears he drew her nearer. 

"Lucy, " he whispered, "you will understand me. I have never kissed anyone since my mother died--could--could you kiss me first?"

"Ah, yes, Rufus, " she answered, and as their lips met he held hergently in his arms. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE END OF IT ALL

There is a mocking-bird at Hidden Water that sings the songs of allthe birds and whistles for the dog. His nest is in a great cluster ofmistletoe in the mesquite tree behind the house and every morning hepolishes his long curved bill against the _ramada_ roof, preens outhis glossy feathers, and does honor to the sun. For two years, off andon, Hardy had heard him, mimicking orioles and larks and sparrows andwhistling shrilly for the dog, but now for the first time his heartanswered to the wild joy of the bird lover. The world had taken onlight and color over night, and the breeze, sifting in through thebarred window, was sweet with the fragrance of untrampled flowers. 

April had come, and the grass; the air was untainted; there was nobraying by the river--the sheep had gone. It had been bought at theprice of blood, but at last there was peace. The dreamy _quah_, _quah_of the quail was no longer a mockery of love; their eggs would not bebroken in the nest but the mothers would lead forth their little ones;even the ground-doves and the poor-wills, nesting in last year'ssheep tracks, would escape the myriad feet--and all because a crazyman, hiding among the cliffs, had shot down Jasper Swope. Without hateor pity Hardy thought of that great hairy fighting-man; the God thatlet him live would judge him dead--and Bill Johnson too, when heshould die. The sheep were gone and Lucy had kissed him--these werethe great facts in the world. 

They were sitting close together beneath the _ramada_, looking outupon the sunlit valley and talking dreamily of the old days, whensuddenly Hardy edged away and pointed apologetically to the westerntrail. There in single file came Judge Ware in his linen duster, astranger in khaki, and a woman, riding astride. 

"There comes father!" cried Lucy, springing up eagerly and waving herhand. 

"And Kitty, " added Hardy, in a hushed voice. Not since they had comehad he spoken of her, and Lucy had respected his silence. Except forthe vague "Perhaps" with which she had answered Bill Lightfoot'spersistent inquiries he had had no hint that Kitty might come, and yeta vague uneasiness had held his eyes to the trail. 

"Tell me, Lucy, " he said, drawing her back to his side as the partydipped out of sight in the interminable thicket of mesquites, "whyhave you never spoken of Kitty? Has anything dreadful happened? Pleasetell me quick, before she comes. I--I won't know what to say. " Hetwisted about and fixed an eye on the doorway, but Lucy held out arestraining hand. 

"It has been a great secret, " she said, "and you must promise not totell, but Kitty has been writing a play. "

"A play!" exclaimed Hardy, astounded, "why--what in the world is itabout?"

"About Arizona, of course, " cried Lucy. "Don't you remember how eagershe was to hear you men talk? And she collected all those spurs andquirts for stage properties! Why, she wrote books and books full ofnotes and cowboy words while she was down here and she's been buriedin manuscript for months. When she heard that you were having theround-up early this year she was perfectly frantic to come, but theywere right in the midst of writing it and she just couldn't getaway. "

"They?" repeated Hardy, mystified. "Why who--"

"Oh, I forgot, " said Lucy, biting her lip. Then in a lower voice sheadded: "She has been collaborating with Tupper Browne. "

"Tupper Browne! Why, what does he know about Arizona?" cried Hardyindignantly, and then, as Lucy looked away, he stopped short. 

"Oh!" he said, and then there was a long silence. "Well, Tupper's agood fellow, " he remarked philosophically. "But Lucy, " he said, starting up nervously as the sound of horses' feet came up from thecreek bed, "you'll--you'll do all the talking, won't you?"

"Talking!" repeated Lucy, pausing in her flight. "Why, yes, " shecalled back, laughing. "Isn't that always the woman's part?" And thenshe fell upon Kitty's neck and kissed her. Hardy came forward withless assurance, but his embarrassment was reduced to a minimum byJudge Ware who, as soon as the first greetings were over, broughtforward the mild-mannered gentleman in khaki and introduced him. 

"Mr. Shafer, " he said, "this is my superintendent, Mr. Hardy. Mr. Shafer represents the United States Forestry Service, " he addedsignificantly. 

"Ah, then you must bring us good news!" cried Hardy, holding out hishand eagerly. 

"Yes, " answered the official modestly, but his speech ended with thatword. 

"I am convinced, " began Judge Ware, suddenly quelling all conversationby the earnestness of his demeanor. "I am convinced that in settingaside the Salagua watershed as a National Forest Reserve, ourPresident has added to the record of his good deeds an act of suchconsummate statesmanship that it will be remembered long after hisdetractors are forgotten. But for him, millions of acres of publicland now set aside as reserves would still be open to the devastation ofunrestricted grazing, or have passed irrevocably into the power of thisinfamous land ring which has been fighting on the floor of Congress todeprive the American people of their rights. But after both houses hadpassed a bill depriving the executive of his power to proclaim ForestReserves--holding back the appropriations for the Forestry Service as athreat--he baffled them by a feigned acquiescence. In exchange forthe appropriations, he agreed to sign the act--and then, after securingthe appropriations, he availed himself of the power still vested inhim to set aside this reserve and many other reserves for our childrenand our children's children--and then, gentlemen, true to his word, hesigned the bill!"

Judge Ware shook hands warmly with Mr. Shafer at the end of thisspeech and wished him all success in protecting the people's domain. It was a great day for the judge, and as soon as Creede and the othercowmen came in with the day's gather of cattle he hastened out to tellthem the news. 

"And now, gentlemen, " he said, holding up his hand to stop the joyousyelling, "I wish to thank you one and all for your confidence in meand in the good faith of our Government. It called for a high order ofmanhood, I am sure; but in not offering any armed resistance to theincoming of the sheep your loyalty has withstood its supreme test. "

"How's that?" inquired Creede, scratching his head doubtfully. Then, divining the abysmal ignorance from which the judge was speaking, heanswered, with an honest twinkle in his eye: "Oh, that's all right, Judge. We always try to do what's right--and we're strong for the law, when they is any. "

"I'm afraid there hasn't been much law up here in the past, hasthere?" inquired Mr. Shafer tactfully. 

"Well, not so's you'd notice it, " replied the big cowboy enigmatically. "But say, Judge, " he continued, making a point at the old gentleman'slinen duster, "excuse _me_, but that yaller letter stickin' out of yourpocket looks kinder familiar. It's for me, ain't it? Um, thanks; thisdetective outfit back in St. Louie is tryin' to make me out amillionaire, or somethin' like that, and I'm naturally interested. " Hetore the letter open, extracted a second epistle from its depths andread it over gravely. "Well, boys, " he observed, grinning cheerfullyas he tucked it away in his shaps, "my luck always did run inbunches--_I'm rich_!"

He strode briskly over to the corral, caught up a fresh horse and, riding back to the camp, began to go through his war bag hurriedly. Hewas in the midst of a feverish packing, throwing away socks andgrabbing up shirts, when a gay laugh from the house attracted hisattention. He listened for a moment abstractedly; then he flew at hiswork once more, dumping everything he had out on his bed and stuffingwhat he needed back into his war bag; but when there came a secondpeal of laughter, he stopped and craned his neck. 

"Well--I'll--be--dam'd!" he muttered, as he recognized the voice, andthen he flew at his work again, manhandling everything in sight. Hewas just roping his enormous bed, preparatory to depositing it in thebunk-house, when Kitty Bonnair stepped out of the house and cametoward him, walking like a boy in her dainty riding suit. There was agreat noise from the branding pen and as she approached he seemed veryintent upon his work, wrestling with his bundle as if he werehog-tying a bull and using language none too choice the while, butKitty waited patiently until he looked up. 

"Why, howdy do, Mr. Creede, " she cried, smiling radiantly. "I got anew idea for my play just from seeing you do that work. "

The cowboy regarded her sombrely, took a nip or two with his rope'send, jerked the cords tight, and sat down deliberately on the bundle. 

"That's good, " he said, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "How'stricks?" There was a shadow of irony in his voice but Kitty passed itby. 

"Fine and dandy, " she answered. "How are you coming?"

"Oh, pretty good, " he conceded, rising up and surveying thebattlefield, "and I reckon I ain't forgot nothin', " he addedmeaningly. He kicked his blanket roll, tied his war bag behind thesaddle, and hitched up his overalls regally. "Sorry I ain't goin' tosee more of you, " he observed, slipping his six-shooter into hisshaps, "but--"

"What, you aren't _going_?" cried Kitty, aghast. "Why, I came all theway down here to see you--I'm writing a play, and you're the hero!"

"Ye-es!" jeered Creede, laughing crudely. "I'm Mary's little lamb thatgot snatched baldheaded to make the baby laugh. "

"You're nothing of the kind, " retorted Kitty stoutly. "You're the heroin my play that's going to be _acted_ some day on the stage. You killa Mexican, and win a beautiful girl in the last act!"

"That's good, " commented Creede, smiling grimly, "but say, that Mex. Will keep, won't he--because I'm due back in St. Louie. "

"Oh!" cried Kitty, clasping her hands in despair. "St. Louis! Andwon't I _ever_ see you any more?"

"Well, you might, " conceded the cowboy magnanimously, "if you waitaround long enough. "

"But I _can't_ wait! I've got to finish my last act, and I came cleardown here, just to hear you talk. You can't imagine how interestingyou are, after living up there in the city, " she added naively. 

"No, " grumbled Creede, picking up his bridle lash, "but say, I've gotto be goin'!" He hooked a boot negligently into the stirrup and lookedback over his shoulder. "Anything else I can do for you?" he inquiredpolitely. 

"Oh, you dear Jeff!" cried Kitty ecstatically, "yes! Do come back hereand let me tell you!" He kicked his foot reluctantly out of thestirrup and stalked back, huge and commanding as ever, but with apuzzled look in his eye. 

"Bend your head down, so I can whisper it, " she coaxed, and brute-likehe bowed at her bidding. She whispered a moment eagerly, added a word, and pushed his head away. For a minute he stood there, thinkingponderously; then very deliberately he pulled his six-shooter out ofhis shaps and handed it over to her. 

"All right, " he said, "but say"--he beckoned her with an inexorablejerk of the head--"what do _I_ git, now?" He looked down upon her ashe had on the morning they had parted, out behind the corral, and thehot blood leaped into Kitty Bonnair's cheeks at the memory of thatkiss. For a moment she hesitated, twisting her trim boot into theground, then she drew the coveted pistol from her belt and handed itback. 

"Well, since you insist, " he said, and very sternly he thrust theredeemed weapon back into his shaps. A change came over him as heregarded her; there was an austere tightening of his lips and his eyesglowed with a light that Kitty had never seen before. 

"That was a rough deal you gave me, girl, " he said, his voice vibrantwith anger, "and I ain't forgotten it. You dropped your rope over myhorns and gave me a little run and then you took your turns and_busted_ me like a wild steer! And then maybe you laughed a little, "he suggested, with a searching glance. "No? Well, it's all right, asfar as I'm concerned--my hide's whole, and I'm rope-wise--but I'lltell you, Miss Kitty, if you'd jest keep this gun of mine and shootsome feller once in a while we'd all enjoy it more. " He paused, andas Kitty stood downcast before this sudden censure he smiled tohimself, and a twinkle of mischief crept into his masterful eyes. 

"But don't mind a little thing like that, girl, " he said, throwing outhis hands largely. "_You_ don't lose no friends by tryin' to educateus a little--ump-umm! Of course I'm kinder sore over that letter, butyou look good to me yet, Kitty!"

"Why--Mr. Creede!" faltered Kitty, looking up. 

"That's right, " asserted Creede, lowering his voice confidentially, "they was something about you that caught my eye the first time I sawyou. " He laughed, showing all his white teeth, and at the same timehis eyes were very grave. 

"Come over here, " he said, "and I'll tell you what it was. No--I won'tkiss you--come on up close. " Wondering at her own acquiescence, KittyBonnair obeyed, and with a mysterious smile he stooped down until hislips were close to her ear. 

"You remind me of my girl, " he whispered, "back in St. Louie!" Andthen with a great laugh he broke away and leapt triumphantly into thesaddle. 

"_Whoop-eee_!" he yelled. "_Watch me fly_!" And spreading his armslike a bird he thundered away down the western trail. 

There was a strange stillness about the old ranch house when Kittycame back to it and she wondered vaguely where Lucy and Rufus were, but as she stepped inside the dirt _ramada_ the quiet seemed to layits spell upon her and she halted by the doorway, waiting for a lastglimpse of Jeff as he went up over the western rim. The bawling ofcattle and the shrill yells of the cowboys no longer tempted her tothe _parada_ ground--she was lonely, and there was no one who caredfor her. Yet, somewhere within, she could hear the murmur of voices, and at last when she could endure it no longer she turned and enteredquickly. The big living-room where they had so often sat together wasvacant now, but Hardy's door was open, and as she looked in she sawthem standing together--Lucy with downcast eyes, and Rufus, holdingboth her hands. It was all very innocent and lover-like, but whentheir lips met she turned and fled to her room. 

Half an hour later Kitty emerged from her hiding, robed like a woman;there was a new grace about her as she stood before them, a newdignity, and she wore fresh flowers in her hair, forget-me-nots, picked from among the rocks as she rode toward Hidden Water. 

"Bless you, my children, " she said, smiling and holding out her hands, "I shall die an old maid. " And then she kissed them both.