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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hidden Water, by Dane Coolidge
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Hidden Water
+
+Author: Dane Coolidge
+
+Illustrator: Maynard Dixon
+
+Release Date: August 9, 2009 [EBook #29642]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIDDEN WATER ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
+Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+
+
+
+
+
+[Illustration: "I never saw a sheepman yet that would fight, but you've
+got 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-cut
+mountains gleamed brilliantly against the sky and the grama grass
+curled slowly on its stem, the rain wind rose up suddenly out of
+Papaguería and swooped down upon the desolate town of Bender, whirling
+a cloud of dust before it; and the inhabitants, man and horse, took to
+cover. New-born clouds, rushing out of the ruck of flying dirt, cast a
+cold, damp shadow upon the earth and hurried past; white-crested
+thunder-caps, piling-up above the Four Peaks, swept resolutely down to
+meet them; and the storm wind, laden with the smell of greasewood and
+wetted alkali, lashed the gaunt desert bushes mercilessly as it howled
+across the plain. Striking the town it jumped wickedly against the old
+Hotel Bender, where most of the male population had taken shelter,
+buffeting its false front until the glasses tinkled and the bar
+mirrors swayed dizzily from their moorings. Then with a sudden
+thunder on the tin roof the flood came down, and Black Tex set up the
+drinks.
+
+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 the
+room drink with him, even a sheepman. Broad-faced and huge, with four
+months' growth of hair and a thirst of the same duration, he stood at
+the end of the bar, smiling radiantly, one sun-blackened hand toying
+with the empty glass.
+
+"Come up, fellers," he said, waving the other in invitation, "and
+drink to Arizona. With a little more rain and good society she'd be a
+holy wonder, as the Texas land boomer says down in hell." They came up
+willingly, cowpunchers and sheepmen, train hands, prospectors, and the
+saloon bums that Black Tex kept about to blow such ready spenders as
+he, whenever they came to town. With a practised jolt of the bottle
+Tex passed down the line, filling each heavy tumbler to the brim; he
+poured a thin one for himself and beckoned in his roustabout to swell
+the count--but still there was an empty glass. There was one man over
+in the corner who had declined to drink. He sat at a disused card
+table studiously thumbing over an old magazine, and as he raised his
+dram the barkeeper glowered at him intolerantly.
+
+"Well," said the big cowboy, reaching for his liquor, "here's how--and
+may she rain for a week!" He shoved back his high black sombrero as he
+spoke, but before he signalled the toast his eye caught the sidelong
+glance of Black Tex, and he too noticed the little man in the corner.
+
+"What's the matter?" he inquired, leaning over toward Tex and jerking
+his thumb dubiously at the corner, and as the barkeeper scowled and
+shrugged his shoulders he set down his glass and stared.
+
+The stranger was a small man, for Arizona, and his delicate hands were
+almost as white as a woman's; but the lines in his face were graven
+deep, without effeminacy, and his slender neck was muscled like a
+wrestler'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 manner
+was that of another world, a sombre, scholarly repose such as you
+would look for in the reference room of the Boston Public Library; and
+he crouched back in his corner like a shy, retiring mouse. For a
+moment the cowman regarded him intently, as if seeking for some
+exculpating infirmity; then, leaving the long line of drinkers to
+chafe at the delay, he paused to pry into the matter.
+
+"Say, partner," he began, his big mountain voice tamed down to a
+masterful 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 into
+his eyes as he saw the long line of men watching him. They were large
+clear eyes, almost piercing in their intentness, yet strangely
+innocent and childlike. For a moment they rested upon the regal form
+of the big cowboy, no less a man than Jefferson Creede, foreman of the
+Dos S, and there was in them something of that silent awe and worship
+which big men love to see, but when they encountered the black looks
+of the multitude and the leering smile of Black Tex they lit up
+suddenly with an answering glint of defiance.
+
+"No, thank you," he said, nodding amiably to the cowman, "I don't
+drink."
+
+An incredulous murmur passed along the line, mingled with sarcastic
+mutterings, 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 his
+glass.
+
+"Thank you just as much," returned the little man politely, "but I
+don'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 a
+guffaw 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 if
+tossing off the liquor at a gulp. Then with another downward flourish
+he passed the whiskey into a convenient spittoon and drank his chaser
+pensively, meanwhile shoving a double eagle across the bar. As Black
+Tex rang it up and counted out the change Creede stuffed it into his
+pocket, staring absently out the window at the downpour. Then with a
+muttered 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 a
+crew of railroad men, off duty, looked out at the sluicing waters and
+idly wondered whether the track would go out--the usual thing in
+Arizona. After the first delirium of joy at seeing it rain at all
+there is an aftermath of misgiving, natural enough in a land where the
+whole surface of the earth, mountain and desert, has been chopped into
+ditches by the trailing feet of cattle and sheep, and most of the
+grass pulled up by the roots. In such a country every gulch becomes a
+watercourse almost before the dust is laid, the _arroyos_ turn to
+rivers and the rivers to broad floods, drifting with trees and
+wreckage. 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 to
+their shearing camps out on the desert, were not worrying about the
+railroad. Whether the bridges went out or held, the grass and browse
+would shoot up like beanstalks in to-morrow's magic sunshine; and even
+if the Rio Salagua blocked their passage, or the shearers' tents were
+beaten into the mud, there would still be feed, and feed was
+everything.
+
+But while the rain was worth a thousand dollars a minute to the
+country at large, trade languished in the Hotel Bender. In a land
+where a gentleman cannot take a drink without urging every one within
+the sound of his voice to join in, the saloon business, while running
+on an assured basis, is sure to have its dull and idle moments. Having
+rung up the two dollars and a half which Jefferson Creede paid for his
+last drink--the same being equivalent to one day's wages as foreman of
+the Dos S outfit--Black Tex, as Mr. Brady of the Bender bar preferred
+to be called, doused the glasses into a tub, turned them over to his
+roustabout, and polished the cherrywood moodily. Then he drew his
+eyebrows down and scowled at the little man in the corner.
+
+In his professional career he had encountered a great many men who did
+not drink, but most of them smoked, and the others would at least
+take a cigar home to their friends. But here was a man who refused to
+come in on a treat at all, and a poor, miserable excuse for a man he
+was, too, without a word for any one. Mr. Brady's reflections on the
+perversity of tenderfeet were cut short by a cold blast of air. The
+door swung open, letting in a smell of wet greasewood, and an old man,
+his hat dripping, stumbled in and stood swaying against the bar. His
+aged sombrero, blacksmithed along the ridge with copper rivets, was
+set far back on a head of long gray hair which hung in heavy strings
+down his back, like an Indian's; his beard, equally long and tangled,
+spread out like a chest protector across his greasy shirt, and his
+fiery 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 a
+drink.
+
+"Well, have one yourself," returned the old-timer grudgingly. Then,
+realizing his breach of etiquette, he suddenly straightened up and
+included the entire barroom in a comprehensive sweep of the hand.
+
+"Come up hyar, all of yoush," he said drunkenly. "Hev a
+drink--everybody--no, everybody--come up hyar, I say!" And the
+graceless saloon bums dropped their cards and came trooping up
+together. A few of the more self-respecting men slipped quietly out
+into the card rooms; but the studious stranger, disdaining such puny
+subterfuges, remained in his place, as impassive and detached as
+ever.
+
+"Hey, young man," exclaimed the old-timer jauntily, "step up hyar and
+nominate yer pizen!"
+
+He closed his invitation with an imperative gesture, but the young man
+did not obey.
+
+"No, thank you, Uncle," he replied soberly, "I don't drink."
+
+"Well, hev a cigar, then," returned the old man, finishing out the
+formula of Western hospitality, and once more Black Tex glowered down
+upon this guest who was always "knocking a shingle off his sign."
+
+"Aw, cut it out, Bill," he sneered, "that young feller don't drink ner
+smoke, 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 to
+his just resentment.
+
+"Hey, young feller," he said, jerking his hand arbitrarily, "come over
+here. 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 way
+to the bar.
+
+"What's the matter with you, anyway?" demanded Brady roughly. "Are you
+too good to drink with the likes of us?"
+
+The stranger lowered his eyes before the domineering gaze of his
+inquisitor and shifted his feet uneasily.
+
+"I don't drink with anybody," he said at last. "And if you had any
+other waiting-room in your hotel," he added, "I'd keep away from your
+barroom altogether. As it is, maybe you wouldn't mind leaving me
+alone."
+
+At this retort, reflecting as it did upon the management, Black Tex
+began to breathe heavily and sway upon his feet.
+
+"I asked you," he roared, thumping his fist upon the bar and opening
+up his eyes, "whether you are too good to drink with the likes of
+us--me, f'r instance--and I want to git an answer!"
+
+He leaned far out over the bar as if listening for the first word
+before he hit him, but the stranger did not reply immediately.
+Instead, with simple-minded directness he seemed to be studying on the
+matter. The broad grin of the card players fell to a wondering stare
+and every man leaned forward when, raising his sombre eyes from the
+floor, the little man spoke.
+
+"Why, yes," he said quietly, "I think I am."
+
+"Yes, _what_?" yelled the barkeeper, astounded. "You think you're
+what?"
+
+"Now, say," protested the younger man. Then, apparently recognizing
+the uselessness of any further evasion, he met the issue squarely.
+
+"Well, since you crowd me to it," he cried, flaring up, "I _am_ too
+good! I'm too good a man to drink when I don't want to drink--I'm too
+good 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 old
+man, or any other man, for his money!"
+
+He rose to his utmost height as he spoke, turning to meet the glance
+of every man in the room, and as he faced them, panting, his deep eyes
+glowed with a passion of conviction.
+
+"If that is too good for this town," he said, "I'll get out of it, but
+I won't drink on treats to please anybody."
+
+The gaze of the entire assembly followed him curiously as he went back
+to his corner, and Black Tex was so taken aback by this unexpected
+effrontery on the part of his guest that he made no reply whatever.
+Then, perceiving that his business methods had been questioned, he
+drew himself up and frowned darkly.
+
+"Hoity-toity!" he sniffed with exaggerated concern. "Who th' hell is
+this, 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--oh
+deah!" He hiked up his shoulders, twisted his head to a pose, and
+shrilled his final sarcasms in the tones of a finicky old lady; but
+the stranger stuck resolutely to his reading, whereupon the black
+barkeeper went sullen and took a drink by himself.
+
+Like many a good mixer, Mr. Brady of the Hotel Bender was often too
+good a patron of his own bar, and at such times he developed a mean
+streak, with symptoms of homicidal mania, which so far had kept the
+town marshal guessing. Under these circumstances, and with the rumor
+of a killing at Fort Worth to his credit, Black Tex was accustomed to
+being humored in his moods, and it went hard with him to be called
+down in the middle of a spectacular play, and by a rank stranger, at
+that. The chair-warmers of the Hotel Bender bar therefore discreetly
+ignored the unexpected rebuke of their chief and proceeded noisily
+with their games, but the old man who had paid for the drinks was no
+such time-server. After tucking what was left of his money back into
+his overalls he balanced against the bar railing for a while and then
+steered straight for the dark corner.
+
+"Young feller," he said, leaning heavily upon the table where the
+stranger was reading, "I'm old Bill Johnson, of Hell's Hip Pocket, and
+I wan'er shake hands with you!"
+
+The young man looked up quickly and the card players stopped as
+suddenly 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 man
+finished speaking he rose with the decorum of the drawing-room and
+extended his white hand cordially.
+
+"I'm very glad to meet you, Mr. Johnson," he said. "Won't you sit
+down?"
+
+"No," protested the old man, "I do' wanner sit down--I wanner ask you
+a question." He reeled, and balanced himself against a chair. "I
+wanner 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 drink
+now." 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 a
+captain 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 'nuther
+question--why don't you drink now, then?"
+
+Hardy laughed indulgently, and his eyes lighted up with good humor, as
+if entertaining drunken men was his ordinary diversion.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you, Mr. Johnson," he said. "If I should drink
+whiskey the way you folks down here do, I'd get drunk."
+
+"W'y sure," admitted Old Man Johnson, sinking shamelessly into a
+chair. "I'm drunk now. But what's the difference?"
+
+Noting the black glances of the barkeeper, Hardy sat down beside him
+and 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 drunk
+in this town, I'd either get into a fight and get licked, or I'd
+wake up the next morning broke, and nothing to show for it but a sore
+head."
+
+"That's me!" exclaimed Old Man Johnson, slamming his battered hat on
+the table, "that's me, Boy, down to the ground! I came down hyar to
+buy 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 shook
+his shaggy head and fell to muttering gloomily, while Hardy reverted
+peacefully to his magazine.
+
+After a long pause the old man raised his face from his arms and
+regarded the young man searchingly.
+
+"Say," he said, "you never told me why you refused to drink with me a
+while ago."
+
+"Well, I'll tell you," answered Hardy, honestly, "and I'm sure you'll
+understand how it is with me. I never expect to take another drink as
+long as I live in this country--not unless I get snake-bit. One drink
+of this Arizona whiskey will make me foolish, and two will make me
+drunk, I'm that light-headed. Now, if I had taken a drink with you a
+minute 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 to
+cut it out altogether. I like you just as well, you understand, and
+all 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 asked
+suddenly reaching out a crabbed hand. "Well, I'll tell ye. I've be'n
+lookin' f'r years f'r a white man that I c'd swear off to. Not one of
+these pink-gilled preachers but a man that would shake hands with me
+on the squar' and hold me to it. Now, Boy, I like you--will you shake
+hands on that?"
+
+"Sure," responded the young man soberly. "But I tell you, Uncle," he
+added deprecatingly, "I just came into town to-day and I'm likely to
+go out again to-morrow. Don't you think you could kind of look after
+yourself while I'm gone? I've seen a lot of this swearing-off business
+already, and it don't seem to amount to much anyhow unless the fellow
+that swears off is willing to do all the hard work himself."
+
+There was still a suggestion of banter in his words, but the old man
+was too serious to notice it.
+
+"Never mind, boy," he said solemnly, "I can do all the work, but I
+jist had to have an honest man to swear off to."
+
+He rose heavily to his feet, adjusted his copper-riveted hat
+laboriously, and drifted slowly out the door. And with another spender
+gone the Hotel Bender lapsed into a sleepy quietude. The rain hammered
+fitfully on the roof; the card players droned out their bids and bets;
+and Black Tex, mechanically polishing his bar, alternated successive
+jolts of whiskey with ill-favored glances into the retired corner
+where Mr. Hardy, supposedly of the W. P. S. Q. T., was studiously
+perusing a straw-colored Eastern magazine. Then, as if to lighten the
+gloom, the sun flashed out suddenly, and before the shadow of the
+scudding clouds had dimmed its glory a shrill whistle from down the
+track announced the belated approach of the west-bound train.
+Immediately the chairs began to scrape; the stud-poker players cut for
+the stakes and quit; coon-can was called off, and by the time Number
+Nine slowed down for the station the entire floating population of
+Bender was lined up to see her come in.
+
+Rising head and shoulders above the crowd and well in front stood
+Jefferson Creede, the foreman of the Dos S; and as a portly gentleman
+in an unseasonable linen duster dropped off the Pullman he advanced,
+waving his hand largely.
+
+"Hullo, Judge!" he exclaimed, grinning jovially. "I was afraid you'd
+bogged down into a washout somewhere!"
+
+"Not at all, Jeff, not at all," responded the old gentleman, shaking
+hands warmly. "Say, this is great, isn't it?" He turned his genial
+smile upon the clouds and the flooded streets for a moment and then
+hurried over toward the hotel.
+
+"Well, how are things going up on the range?" he inquired, plunging
+headlong into business and talking without a stop. "Nicely, nicely, I
+don't doubt. I tell you, Mr. Creede, that ranch has marvellous
+possibilities--marvellous! All it needs is a little patience, a little
+diplomacy, you understand--_and holding on_, until we can pass this
+forestry legislation. Yes, sir, while the present situation may seem a
+little strained--and I don't doubt you are having a hard time--at the
+same time, if we can only get along with these sheepmen--appeal to
+their better nature, you understand--until we get some protection at
+law, I am convinced that we can succeed yet. I want to have a long
+talk with you on this subject, Jeff--man to man, you understand, and
+between friends--but I hope you will reconsider your resolution to
+resign, because that would just about finish us off. It isn't a matter
+of money, is it, Jefferson? For while, of course, we are not making a
+fortune--"
+
+He paused and glanced up at his foreman's face, which was growing more
+sullen 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 money
+can hire me to run that ranch another year, not if I've got to smile
+and be nice to those sons of--well, you know what kind of sons I
+mean--that dog-faced Jasper Swope, for instance."
+
+He spat vehemently at the mention of the name and led the way to a
+card room in the rear of the barroom.
+
+"Of course I'll work your cattle for you," he conceded, as he entered
+the booth, "but if you want them sheepmen handled diplomatically you'd
+better send up a diplomat. I'm that wore out I can't talk to 'em
+except over the top of a six-shooter."
+
+The deprecating protestations of the judge were drowned by the scuffle
+of feet as the hangers-on and guests of the hotel tramped in, and in
+the round of drinks that followed his presence was half forgotten. Not
+being a drinking man himself, and therefore not given to the generous
+practice of treating, the arrival of Judge Ware, lately retired from
+the bench and now absentee owner of the Dos S Ranch, did not create
+much of a furore in Bender. All Black Tex and the bunch knew was that
+he was holding a conference with Jefferson Creede, and that if Jeff
+was pleased with the outcome of the interview he would treat, but if
+not he would probably retire to the corral and watch his horse eat
+hay, openly declaring that Bender was the most God-forsaken hell-hole
+north of the Mexican line--for Creede was a man of moods.
+
+In the lull which followed the first treat, the ingratiating drummer
+who had set up the drinks, charging the same to his expense account,
+leaned against the bar and attempted to engage the barkeeper in
+conversation, asking leading questions about business in general and
+Mr. Einstein of the New York Store in particular; but Black Tex, in
+spite of his position, was uncommunicative. Immediately after the
+arrival of the train the little man who had called him down had
+returned to the barroom and immersed himself in those wearisome
+magazines which a lunger had left about the place, and, far from being
+impressed with his sinister expression, had ignored his unfriendly
+glances entirely. More than that, he had deserted his dark corner and
+seated himself on a bench by the window from which he now looked out
+upon the storm with a brooding preoccupation as sincere as it was
+maddening. His large deer eyes were fixed upon the distance, and his
+manner was that of a man who studies deeply upon some abstruse
+problem; of a man with a past, perhaps, such as often came to those
+parts, crossed in love, or hiding out from his folks.
+
+Black Tex dismissed the drummer with an impatient gesture and was
+pondering solemnly upon his grievances when a big, square-jowled cat
+rushed out from behind the bar and set up a hoarse, raucous mewing.
+
+"Ah, shet up!" growled Brady, throwing him away with his foot; but as
+the cat's demands became more and more insistent the barkeeper was at
+last constrained to take some notice.
+
+"What's bitin' you?" he demanded, peering into the semi-darkness
+behind the bar; and as the cat, thus encouraged, plunged recklessly in
+among a lot of empty bottles, he promptly threw him out and fished up
+a mouse trap, from the cage of which a slender tail was wriggling
+frantically.
+
+"Aha!" he exclaimed, advancing triumphantly into the middle of the
+floor. "Look, boys, here's where we have some fun with Tom!" And as
+the card players turned down their hands to watch the sport, the old
+cat, scenting his prey, rose up on his hind legs and clutched at the
+cage, yelling.
+
+Grabbing him roughly by the scruff of the neck Black Tex suddenly
+threw him away and opened the trap, but the frightened mouse, unaware
+of his opportunity, remained huddled up in the corner.
+
+"Come out of that," grunted the barkeeper, shaking the cage while with
+his free hand he grappled the cat, and before he could let go his hold
+the mouse was halfway across the room, heading for the bench where
+Hardy sat.
+
+"Ketch 'im!" roared Brady, hurling the eager cat after it, and just as
+the mouse was darting down a hole Tom pinned it to the floor with his
+claws.
+
+"What'd I tell ye?" cried the barkeeper, swaggering. "That cat will
+ketch 'em every time. Look at that now, will you?"
+
+With dainty paws arched playfully, the cat pitched the mouse into the
+air and sprang upon it like lightning as it darted away. Then mumbling
+it with a nicely calculated bite, he bore it to the middle of the
+floor and laid it down, uninjured.
+
+"Ain't he hell, though?" inquired Tex, rolling his eyes upon the
+spectators. The cat reached out cautiously and stirred it up with his
+paw; and once more, as his victim dashed for its hole, he caught it
+in full flight. But now the little mouse, its hair all wet and
+rumpled, crouched dumbly between the feet of its captor and would not
+run. Again and again the cat stirred it up, sniffing suspiciously to
+make sure it was not dead; then in a last effort to tempt it he
+deliberately lay over on his back and rolled, purring and closing
+his eyes luxuriously, until, despite its hurts, the mouse once more
+took to flight. Apparently unheeding, the cat lay inert, following
+its wobbly course with half-shut eyes--then, lithe as a panther,
+he leaped up and took after it. There was a rush and a scramble
+against the wall, but just as he struck out his barbed claw a hand
+closed over the mouse and the little man on the bench whisked it
+dexterously 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 to
+intercede.
+
+"Put down that mouse, you freak!" he bellowed, charging across the
+room. "Put 'im down, I say, or I'll break you in two!" He launched his
+heavy 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 with
+vexation. "What--you won't, eh? Well, I'll learn you!" And with a
+wicked oath he drew his revolver and levelled it across the table.
+
+"Put--down--that--mouse!" he said slowly and distinctly, but Hardy
+only shook his head. Every man in the room held his breath for the
+report; the poker players behind fell over tables and chairs to get
+out of range; and still they stood there, the barkeeper purple, the
+little man very pale, glaring at one another along the top of the
+barrel. In the hollow of his hand Hardy held the mouse, which tottered
+drunkenly; while the cat, still clamoring for his prize, raced about
+under 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 and
+he held the mouse to his bosom as a mother might shield her child; at
+the second he glanced down at it, a poor crushed thing trembling as
+with 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 Black
+Tex burst into a storm of oaths.
+
+"Well, dam' your heart," he yelled, raising his pistol in the air
+as 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 suddenly
+sensed a conspiracy to show him up, and instantly the realization of
+his 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 answer
+whatever.
+
+"Well, _say_ something, can't you?" snapped the badman, his
+overwrought nerves jangled by the delay. "What d'ye mean by
+interferin' with my cat?"
+
+For a minute the stranger regarded him intently, his sad, far-seeing
+eyes absolutely devoid of evil intent, yet baffling in their
+inscrutable reserve--then he closed his lips again resolutely, as if
+denying expression to some secret that lay close to his heart, turning
+it with undue vehemence to the cause of those who suffer and cannot
+escape.
+
+"Well, f'r Gawd's sake," exclaimed Black Tex at last, lowering his gun
+in 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," answered
+the 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 he
+retired to his place.
+
+"The drinks are on the house," he announced, jauntily strewing the
+glasses along the bar. "Won't drink, eh? All right. But lemme tell
+you, 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 the
+Hotel Bender, the wind from Papaguería went howling out over the mesa,
+still big with rain for the Four Peaks country, and the sun came out
+gloriously from behind the clouds. Already the thirsty sands had
+sucked up the muddy pools of water, and the board walk which extended
+the length of the street, connecting saloon with saloon and ending
+with the New York Store, smoked with the steam of drying. Along the
+edge of the walk, drying out their boots in the sun, the casual
+residents of the town--many of them held up there by the storm--sat in
+pairs and groups, talking or smoking in friendly silence. A little
+apart from the rest, for such as he are a long time making friends in
+Arizona, Rufus Hardy sat leaning against a post, gazing gloomily out
+across the desert. For a quiet, retiring young man, interested in good
+literature and bearing malice toward no one, his day in the Bender
+barroom had been eventful out of all proportion to his deserts and
+wishes, and he was deep in somber meditation when the door opened and
+Judge Ware stepped out into the sunshine.
+
+In outward appearance the judge looked more like a large fresh-faced
+boy in glasses than one of San Francisco's eminent jurists, and the
+similarity was enhanced by the troubled and deprecating glances with
+which he regarded his foreman, who towered above him like a mentor.
+There was a momentary conference between them at the doorway, and
+then, as Creede stumped away down the board walk, the judge turned and
+reluctantly approached Hardy.
+
+"I beg your pardon, sir," he began, as the young man in some confusion
+rose to meet him, "but I should like a few words with you, on a matter
+of business. I am Mr. Ware, the owner of the Dos S Ranch--perhaps you
+may have heard of it--over in the Four Peaks country. Well--I hardly
+know how to begin--but my foreman, Mr. Creede, was highly impressed
+with your conduct a short time ago in the--er--affray with the
+barkeeper. I--er--really know very little as to the rights of the
+matter, but you showed a high degree of moral courage, I'm sure. Would
+you 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 has
+forgotten 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 last
+year and more? I am sure your father has been quite worried about
+you."
+
+"Oh, I hope not," answered Hardy, shifting his gaze. "I guess he knows
+I can take care of myself by this time--if I do write poetry," he
+added, with a shade of bitterness.
+
+"Well, well," said the judge, diplomatically changing the subject, "Lucy
+will be glad to hear of you, at any rate. I believe she--er--wrote you
+once, some time ago, at your Berkeley address, and the letter was
+returned as uncalled for."
+
+He gazed over the rims of his glasses inquiringly, and with a
+suggestion of asperity, but the young man was unabashed.
+
+"I hope you will tell Miss Lucy," he said deferentially, "that on
+account of my unsettled life I have not ordered my mail forwarded for
+some time." He paused and for the moment seemed to be considering
+some 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 wandered
+back a year or more to the mysterious disappearance of this same
+self-contained young man from his father's house, not three blocks
+from his own comfortable home. There had been a servant's rumor that
+he had sent back a letter or two postmarked "Bowie, Arizona"--but old
+Colonel Hardy had said never a word.
+
+"Er--yes," he assented absently, "but--well, I declare," he exclaimed
+helplessly, "I've quite forgotten what it was about."
+
+"Won't you sit down, then?" suggested Hardy, indicating the edge of
+the board walk with a courtly sweep of the hand. "This rain will make
+good feed for you up around the Four Peaks--I believe it was of your
+ranch there that you wished to speak."
+
+Judge Ware settled down against a convenient post and caught his
+breath, 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 the
+Institute?"
+
+"Yes, indeed!" exclaimed the judge, quite mollified by the inquiry.
+"Indeed she is, and doing as well as any of them. She had a landscape
+hung at the last exhibit, that was very highly praised, even by
+Mathers, and you know how hard he is to please. Tupper Browne won the
+prize, but I think Lucy's was twice the picture--kind of soft and
+sunshiny, 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 ragged
+street a little wistfully. "I kind of lose track of things down here,
+knocking around from place to place." He seated himself wearily on the
+edge of the sidewalk and drummed with his sinewy white hands against a
+boot 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 you
+I 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 much
+demand for college graduates in this country, you know, and I might
+want to strike him for a job."
+
+Judge Ware nodded, a little distantly; he did not approve of this
+careless young man in all his moods. For a man of good family he was
+hardly presentable, for one thing, and he spoke at times like an
+ordinary working man. So he awaited the lumbering approach of his
+foreman in sulky silence, resolved to leave the matter entirely in his
+hands.
+
+Jefferson Creede bore down upon them slowly, sizing up the situation as
+he came, or trying to, for everything seemed to be at a standstill.
+
+"Well?" he remarked, looking inquiringly from the judge to Hardy. "How
+about it?"
+
+There was something big and dominating about him as he loomed above
+them, and the judge's schoolboy state of mind instantly returned.
+
+"I--I really haven't done anything about the matter, Jefferson," he
+stammered apologetically. "Perhaps you will explain our circumstances
+to 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 have
+been gittin' so free up on our range that I've had a little trouble
+with 'em--and if I was the boss they'd be more trouble, you can bet
+your life on that. But the judge here seems to think we can kinder
+suck the hind teat and baby things along until they git that Forest
+Reserve act through, and make our winnin' later. He wants to make
+friends with these sheepmen and git 'em to kinder go around a little
+and 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 end
+of it or rustle up a new foreman, because I see red every time I hear
+a sheep-blat.
+
+"Then come the question," continued the cowman, throwing out his broad
+hand as if indicating the kernel of the matter, "of _gittin'_ such a
+man, and while we was talkin' it over you called old Tex down so good
+and proper that there wasn't any doubt in _my_ mind--providin' you
+want the job, of course."
+
+He paused and fixed his compelling eyes upon Hardy with such a mixture
+of 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 pass
+upon the matter finally, and he waited deferentially for him to
+speak.
+
+"Well--er--Jefferson," began the judge a little weakly, "do you think
+that Mr. Hardy possesses the other qualities which would be called for
+in 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 first
+requisite in such a man is that he shall please Mr. Creede. And since
+he commends you so warmly I hope that you will accept the position.
+Let me see--um--would seventy-five dollars a month seem a reasonable
+figure? 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, as
+usual; and I want you, Mr. Hardy, to devote your time and attention to
+this matter of the sheep. Our ranch house at Hidden Water lies almost
+directly across the river from one of the principal sheep crossings,
+and a little hospitality shown to the shepherds in passing might be
+like bread cast upon the waters which comes back an hundred fold after
+many days. We cannot hope to get rid of them entirely, but if the
+sheep owners would kindly respect our rights to the upper range, which
+Mr. Creede will point out to you, I am sure we should take it very
+kindly. Now that is your whole problem, Rufus, and I leave the details
+entirely in your hands. But whatever you do, be friendly and see if
+you can't appeal to their better nature."
+
+He delivered these last instructions seriously and they were so taken
+by Hardy, but Creede laughed silently, showing all his white teeth,
+yet without attracting the unfavorable attention of the judge, who was
+a little purblind. Then there was a brief discussion of details, an
+introduction to Mr. Einstein of the New York Store, where Hardy was
+given _carte blanche_ for supplies, and Judge Ware swung up on the
+west-bound limited and went flying away toward home, leaving his
+neighbor's son--now his own superintendent and sheep expert--standing
+composedly upon the platform.
+
+"Well," remarked Creede, smiling genially as he turned back to the
+hotel, "the Old Man's all right, eh, if he does have fits! He's
+good-hearted--and that goes a long ways in this country--but actually,
+I believe he knows less about the cattle business than any man in
+Arizona. He can't tell a steer from a stag--honest! And I can lose him
+a half-mile from camp any day."
+
+The tall cattleman clumped along in silence for a while, smiling over
+some untold weakness of his boss--then he looked down upon Hardy and
+chuckled 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; the
+fact is, I need somebody to watch me. W'y, boy, I could beat the old
+judge out of a thousand dollars' worth of cattle and he'd never know
+it in a lifetime. Did ye ever live all alone out on a ranch for a
+month 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 forty
+times over if he wasn't such a good-hearted old boy, but between
+fightin' sheepmen and keepin' tab on a passel of brand experts up on
+the Tonto I'm gittin' so ornery I don't dare trust myself. Have a
+smoke? Oh, I forgot--"
+
+He laughed awkwardly and rolled a cigarette.
+
+"Got a match?" he demanded austerely. "Um, much obliged--be kinder
+handy to have you along now." He knit his brows fiercely as he fired
+up, 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 to
+the 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 feed
+corral. 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 found
+Hardy doing as much for a clean-limbed sorrel, over by the gate.
+
+"Yourn?" he inquired, surveying it with the keen concentrated gaze
+which 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 rolled
+his eyes and snorted.
+
+"That's right," assented Hardy, "he's only been broke about a month. I
+got him over in the Sulphur Springs Valley."
+
+"I knowed it," said the cowboy sagely, "one of them wire-grass
+horses--an' I bet he can travel, too. Did you ride him all the way
+here?"
+
+"Clean from the Chiricahuas," replied the young man, and Jefferson
+Creede looked up, startled.
+
+"What did you say you was doin' over there?" he inquired slowly, and
+Hardy smiled quietly as he answered:
+
+"Riding for the Cherrycow outfit."
+
+"The hell you say!" exclaimed Creede explosively, and for a long time
+he stood silent, smoking as if in deep meditation.
+
+"Well," he said at last, "I might as well say it--I took you for a
+tenderfoot."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER III
+
+THE TRAIL OF THE SHEEP
+
+
+The morning dawned as clear on Bender as if there had never been storm
+nor clouds, and the waxy green heads of the greasewood, dotting the
+level plain with the regularity of a vineyard, sparkled with a
+thousand dewdrops. Ecstatic meadow larks, undismayed by the utter lack
+of meadows, sang love songs from the tops of the telegraph poles; and
+the little Mexican ground doves that always go in pairs tracked
+amiably about together in the wet litter of the corral, picking up the
+grain which the storm had laid bare. Before the early sun had cleared
+the top of the eastern mountains Jefferson Creede and Hardy had risen
+and fed their horses well, and while the air was yet chill they loaded
+their blankets and supplies upon the ranch wagon, driven by a
+shivering Mexican, and went out to saddle up.
+
+Since his confession of the evening before Creede had put aside his
+air of friendly patronage and, lacking another pose, had taken to
+smoking in silence; for there is many a boastful cowboy in Arizona who
+has done his riding for the Cherrycow outfit on the chuck wagon,
+swamping for the cook. At breakfast he jollied the Chinaman into
+giving him two orders of everything, from coffee to hot cakes, paid
+for the same at the end, and rose up like a giant refreshed--but
+beneath this jovial exterior he masked a divided mind. Although he had
+come down handsomely, he still had his reservations about the
+white-handed little man from Cherrycow, and when they entered the
+corral he saddled his iron-scarred charger by feeling, gazing craftily
+over his back to see how Hardy would show up in action.
+
+Now, first the little man took a rope, and shaking out the loop
+dropped it carelessly against his horse's fore-feet--and that looked
+well, for the sorrel stood stiffly in his tracks, as if he had been
+anchored. Then the man from Cherrycow picked up his bridle, rubbed
+something on the bit, and offered it to the horse, who graciously
+bowed his head to receive it. This was a new one on Creede and in the
+excitement of the moment he inadvertently cinched his roan up two
+holes too tight and got nipped for it, for old Bat Wings had a mind of
+his own in such matters, and the cold air made him ugly.
+
+"Here, quit that," muttered the cowboy, striking back at him; but when
+he looked up, the sorrel had already taken his bit, and while he was
+champing on it Hardy had slipped the headstall over his ears. There
+was a broad leather blind on the hacamore, which was of the best
+plaited rawhide with a horsehair tie rope, but the little man did not
+take advantage of it to subdue his mount. Instead he reached down for
+his gaudy Navajo saddle blanket, offered it to the sorrel to smell,
+and then slid it gently upon his back. But when he stooped for his
+saddle the high-headed horse rebelled. With ears pricked suspiciously
+forward and eyes protruding he glared at the clattering thing in
+horror, 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 escape
+its hateful embrace he leaned slowly back upon his haunches, grunting
+as if his fore-feet, wreathed in the loose rope, were stuck in some
+terrible quicksands from which he tried in vain to extricate them; but
+with a low murmur of indifferent words his master moved the saddle
+resolutely toward him, the stirrups carefully snapped up over the
+horn, and ignoring his loud snorts and frenzied shakings of the head
+laid it surely down upon his back. This done, he suddenly spoke
+sharply to him, and with a final groan the beautiful creature rose up
+and consented to his fate.
+
+Hardy worked quickly now, tightening the cinch, lowering the
+stirrups, and gathering up the reins. He picked up the rope, coiled it
+deftly and tied it to the saddle--and now, relieved of the idea that
+he 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 break
+Creede mounted hurriedly and edged in, to be ready in case the sorrel,
+like most half-broken broncos, tried to scrape his rider off against
+the fence; but Hardy needed no wrangler to shunt him out the gate.
+Standing by his shoulder and facing the rear he patted the sorrel's
+neck with the hand that held the reins, while with his right hand he
+twisted the heavy stirrup toward him stealthily, raising his boot to
+meet it. Then like a flash he clapped in his foot and, catching the
+horn as his fiery pony shot forward, he snapped up into the saddle
+like a jumping jack and went flying out the gate.
+
+"Well, the son of a gun!" muttered Creede, as he thundered down the
+trail after him. "Durned if he can't ride!"
+
+There are men in every cow camp who can rope and shoot, but the man
+who can ride a wild horse can hold up his head with the best of
+them. 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 his
+blankets; his fame will spread quickly from camp to camp, and the
+boss will offer to raise him when he shows up for his time.
+Jefferson Creede's face was all aglow when he finally rode up beside
+Hardy; he grinned triumphantly upon horse and man as if they had won
+money for him in a race; and Hardy, roused at last from his
+reserve, laughed back out of pure joy in his possessions.
+
+"How's that for a horse?" he cried, raising his voice above the thud
+of hoofs. "I have to turn him loose at first--'fraid he'll learn to
+pitch if I hold him in--he's never bucked with me yet!"
+
+"You bet--he's a snake!" yelled Creede, hammering along on his
+broad-chested roan. "Where'd you git 'im?"
+
+"Tom Fulton's ranch," responded Hardy, reining his horse in and
+patting him on the neck. "Turned in three months' pay and broke him
+myself, 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," said
+Creede, "but I'm just as much obliged, all the same. I don't claim to
+be no bronco-buster now, but I used to ride some myself when I was a
+kid. But say, the old judge has got some good horses runnin' on the
+upper range,--if you want to keep your hand in,--thirty or forty head
+of '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 catch
+the black stallion that leads 'em."
+
+Try as he would to minimize this exaggerated estimate of his prowess
+as a horse-tamer Hardy was unable to make his partner admit that he
+was anything short of a real "buster," and before they had been on the
+trail an hour Creede had made all the plans for a big gather of wild
+horses after the round-up.
+
+"I had you spotted for a sport from the start," he said, puffing out
+his chest at the memory of his acumen, "but, by jingo, I never thought
+I was drawin' a bronco-twister. Well, now, I saw you crawl that horse
+this mornin', and I guess I know the real thing by this time. Say," he
+said, turning confidentially in his saddle, "if it's none of my
+business you can say so, but what did you do to that bit?"
+
+Hardy smiled, like a juggler detected in his trick. "You must have
+been watching me," he said, "but I don't mind telling you--it's simply
+passing a good thing along. I learned it off of a Yaqui Mayo Indian
+that had been riding for Bill Greene on the Turkey-track--I rubbed it
+with a little salt."
+
+"Well, I'm a son of a gun!" exclaimed Creede incredulously. "Here
+we've been gittin' our fingers bit off for forty years and never
+thought of a little thing like that. Got any more tricks?"
+
+"Nope," said Hardy, "I've only been in the Territory a little over a
+year, this trip, and I'm learning, myself. Funny how much you can pick
+up from some of these Indians and Mexicans that can't write their own
+names, isn't it?"
+
+"Umm, may be so," assented Creede doubtfully, "but I'd rather go to a
+white man myself. Say," he exclaimed, changing the subject abruptly,
+"what was that name the old man called you by when he was makin' that
+talk 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 hear
+it before, 's all. I was wonderin' how he knowed it," he added,
+glancing shrewdly sideways. "Thought maybe you might have met him up
+in California, or somewheres."
+
+"Oh, that's easy," responded Hardy unblinkingly. "The first thing he
+did was to ask me my full name. I notice he calls you Jefferson," he
+added, shiftily changing the subject.
+
+"Sure thing," agreed Creede, now quite satisfied, "he calls everybody
+that way. If your name is Jim you're James, John you're Jonathan, Jeff
+you're Jefferson Davis--but say, ain't they any f'r short to your
+name? We're gittin' too far out of town for this Mister business. My
+name's Jeff, you know," he suggested.
+
+"Why, sure," exclaimed Hardy, brushing aside any college-bred
+scruples, "only don't call me Rough House--they might get the idea
+that I was on the fight. But you don't need to get scared of
+Rufus--it's just another way of saying Red. I had a red-headed
+ancestor away back there somewhere and they called him Rufus, and then
+they passed the name down in the family until it got to me, and I'm no
+more 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 to
+call you Rufus. Will you stand for Reddy? Aw, that's no good--what's
+the matter with Rufe? Well, shake then, pardner, I'm dam' glad I met
+up with you."
+
+They pulled their horses down to a Spanish trot--that easy, limping
+shuffle that eats up its forty miles a day--and rode on together like
+brothers, heading for a distant pass in the mountains where the
+painted cliffs of the Bulldog break away and leave a gap down to the
+river. To the east rose Superstition Mountain, that huge buttress upon
+which, since the day that a war party of Pimas disappeared within the
+shadow of its pinnacles, hot upon the trail of the Apaches, and never
+returned again, the Indians of the valley have always looked with
+superstitious dread.
+
+Creede told the story carelessly, smiling at the pride of the Pimas
+who refused to admit that the Apaches alone, devils and bad medicine
+barred, could have conquered so many of their warriors. To the west in
+a long fringe of green loomed the cottonwoods of Moroni, where the
+hard-working Mormons had turned the Salagua from its course and
+irrigated the fertile plain, and there on their barren reservation
+dwelt the remnant of those warlike Pimas, the unrequited friends of
+the white men, now held by them as of no account.
+
+As he heard the history of its people--how the Apaches had wiped out
+the Toltecs, and the white men had killed off the Apaches, and then,
+after pushing aside the Pimas and the Mexicans, closed in a death
+struggle for the mastery of the range--Hardy began to perceive the
+grim humor of the land. He glanced across at his companion, tall,
+stalwart, with mighty arms and legs and features rugged as a mountain
+crag, and his heart leaped up within him at the thought of the battles
+to 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 mounted
+gently; hills rose up one by one out of the desert floor, crowned with
+towering _sahuaros_, and in the dip of the pass ahead a mighty forest
+of their misshapen stalks was thrust up like giant fingers against the
+horizon. The trail wound in among them, where they rose like fluted
+columns above the lesser cactus--great skin-covered tanks, gorged fat
+with water too bitter to quench the fieriest thirst, yet guarded
+jealously by poison-barbed spines. Gilded woodpeckers, with hearts red
+as blood painted upon their breasts, dipped in uneven flight from
+_sahuaro_ to _sahuaro_, dodged into holes of their own making, dug
+deep into the solid flesh; sparrow hawks sailed forth from their
+summits, with quick eyes turned to the earth for lizards; and the
+brown mocking bird, leaping for joy from the ironwood tree where his
+mate was nesting, whistled the praise of the desert in the ecstatic
+notes of love. In all that land which some say God forgot, there was
+naught but life and happiness, for God had sent the rain.
+
+The sun was high in the heavens when, as they neared the summit of
+the broad pass, a sudden taint came down the wind, whose only burden
+had been the fragrance of resinous plants, of wetted earth, and of
+green things growing. A distant clamor, like the babble of many
+voices or the surf-beats of a mighty sea, echoed dimly between the
+_chuck-a-chuck_ of their horses' feet, and as Hardy glanced up
+inquiringly his companion's lip curled and he muttered:
+
+"Sheep!"
+
+They rode on in silence. The ground, which before had been furred with
+Indian wheat and sprouting six weeks' grass, now showed the imprints
+of many tiny feet glozed over by the rain, and Hardy noticed vaguely
+that something was missing--the grass was gone. Even where a minute
+before it had covered the level flats in a promise of maturity, rising
+up in ranker growth beneath the thorny trees and cactus, its place was
+now swept bare and all the earth trampled into narrow, hard-tamped
+trail. Then as a brush shed and corrals, with a cook tent and a couple
+of water wagons in the rear, came into view, the ground went suddenly
+stone bare, stripped naked and trampled smooth as a floor. Never
+before had Hardy seen the earth so laid waste and desolate, the very
+cactus trimmed down to its woody stump and every spear of root grass
+searched out from the shelter of the spiny _chollas_. He glanced once
+more at his companion, whose face was sullen and unresponsive; there
+was a well-defined bristle to his short mustache and he rowelled his
+horse cruelly when he shied at the blatting horde.
+
+The shearing was in full blast, every man working with such feverish
+industry that not one of them stopped to look up. From the receiving
+corral three Mexicans in slouched hats and jumpers drove the sheep
+into a broad chute, yelling and hurling battered oil cans at the
+hindmost; by the chute an American punched them vigorously forward
+with a prod, and yet another thrust them into the pens behind the
+shearers, who bent to their work with a sullen, back-breaking stoop.
+Each man held between his knees a sheep, gripped relentlessly, that
+flinched and kicked at times when the shears clipped off patches of
+flesh; and there in the clamor of a thousand voices they shuttled
+their keen blades unceasingly, stripping off a fleece, throwing it
+aside, and seizing a fresh victim by the foot, toiling and sweating
+grimly. By another chute a man stood with a paint pot, stamping a
+fresh brand upon every new-shorn sheep, and in a last corral the naked
+ones, their white hides spotted with blood from their cuts, blatted
+frantically for their lambs. These were herded in a small inclosure,
+some large and browned with the grime of the flock, others white and
+wobbly, newborn from mothers frightened in the shearing; and always
+that tremendous wailing chorus--_Ba-a-a_, _ba-a-a_, _ba-a-a_--and men
+in greasy clothes wrestling with the wool.
+
+To a man used to the noise and turmoil of the round-up and branding
+pen and accustomed to the necessary cruelties of stock raising there
+was nothing in the scene to attract attention. But Hardy was of
+gentler blood, inured to the hardships of frontier life but not to its
+unthinking brutality, and as he beheld for the first time the waste,
+the hurry, the greed of it all, his heart turned sick and his eyes
+glowed with pity, like a woman's. By his side the sunburned swarthy
+giant who had taken him willy-nilly for a friend sat unmoved, his lip
+curled, not at the pity of it, but because they were sheep; and
+because, among the men who rushed about driving them with clubs and
+sacks, he saw more than one who had eaten at his table and then
+sheeped out his upper range. His saturnine mood grew upon him as he
+waited and, turning to Hardy, he shouted harshly:
+
+"There's some of your friends over yonder," he said, jerking his thumb
+toward a group of men who were weighing the long sacks of wool. "Want
+to 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 he
+reined Bat Wings into the trail. But just as they started to go one of
+the men by the scales hailed them, motioning with his hand and, still
+laughing cynically, the foreman of the Dos S turned back again.
+
+"That's Jim Swope," he said, "one of our big sheep men--nice
+feller--you'll like him."
+
+He led the way to the weighing scales, where two sweating Mexicans
+tumbled the eight-foot bags upon the platform, and a burly man with a
+Scotch turn to his tongue called off the weights defiantly. At his
+elbow stood two men, the man who had called them and a wool
+buyer,--each keeping tally of the count.
+
+Jim Swope glanced quickly up from his work. He was a man not over
+forty 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 Pablo
+Moreno and them Mexicans I lost a cut of two hundred sheep up there
+somewhere. That son of a--of a herder of mine was too lazy to make a
+corral and count 'em, so I don't know where they are lost, but I'll
+give 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 from
+the 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 be
+poorer still if you come in on me, so keep away. Mr. Swope, I'll make
+you acquainted with Mr. Hardy--my new boss. Judge Ware has sent him
+out to be superintendent for the Dos S."
+
+"Glad to meet you, sir," said Swope, offering a greasy hand that
+smelled of sheep dip. "Nice man, the old judge--here, _umbre_, put
+that bag on straight! Three hundred and _fifteen_? Well I know a dam'
+sight better--excuse me, boys--here, put that bag on again, and weigh
+it right!"
+
+"Well," observed Creede, glancing at his friend as the combat raged
+unremittingly, "I guess we might as well pull. His busy day, you
+understand. Nice feller, though--you'll like 'im." Once more the glint
+of quiet deviltry came into his eyes, but he finished out the jest
+soberly. "Comes from a nice Mormon family down in Moroni--six
+brothers--all sheepmen. You'll see the rest of the boys when they come
+through next month--but Jim's the best."
+
+There was something in the sardonic smile that accompanied this
+encomium which set Hardy thinking. Creede must have been thinking too,
+for he rode past the kitchen without stopping, cocking his head up at
+the 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." And
+throwing the spurs into Bat Wings he loped rapidly toward the summit,
+scowling forbiddingly in passing at a small boy who was shepherding
+the stray herd. For a mile or two he said nothing, swinging his head
+to 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 out
+grandly at the panorama which lay before them.
+
+"There she lays," he said, as if delivering a funeral oration, "as
+good a cow country as God ever made--and now even the jack rabbits
+have left it. D'ye see that big mesa down there?" he continued,
+pointing to a broad stretch of level land, dotted here and there with
+giant cactus, which extended along the river. "I've seen a thousand
+head 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 that
+the mesa was empty.
+
+"There was grass a foot high," cried Creede in a hushed, sustained
+voice, as if he saw it again, "and flowers. Me and my brothers and
+sisters used to run out there about now and pick all kinds, big
+yaller poppies and daisies, and these here little pansies--and
+ferget-me-nots. God! I wish I could ferget 'em--but I've been
+fightin' these sheep so long and gittin' so mean and ugly them flowers
+wouldn't mean no more to me now than a bunch of jimson weeds and
+stink squashes. But hell, what's the use?" He threw out his hands once
+more, palms up, and dropped them limply.
+
+"That's old Pablo Moreno's place down there," he said, falling back
+abruptly into his old way. "We'll stop there overnight--I want to help
+git that wagon across the river when Rafael comes in bymeby, and we'll
+go up by trail in the mornin'."
+
+Once more he fell into his brooding silence, looking up at the naked
+hills from habit, for there were no cattle there. And Rufus Hardy,
+quick to understand, gazed also at the arid slopes, where once the
+grama had waved like tawny hair in the soft winds and the cattle of
+Jeff Creede's father had stood knee-high in flowers.
+
+Now at last the secret of Arizona-the-Lawless and Arizona-the-Desert
+lay before him: the feed was there for those who could take it, and
+the sheep were taking it all. It was government land, only there was
+no government; anybody's land, to strip, to lay waste, to desolate, to
+hog for and fight over forever--and no law of right; only this, that
+the best fighter won. Thoughts came up into his mind, as thoughts will
+in the silence of the desert; memories of other times and places, a
+word here, a scene there, having no relation to the matter in hand;
+and then one flashed up like the premonitions of the superstitious--a
+verse from the Bible that he had learned at his mother's knee many
+years before:
+
+"Crying, Peace, Peace, when there is no peace."
+
+But he put it aside lightly, as a man should, for if one followed
+every 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 flats
+where the Salagua writhed about uneasily in its bed, the _casa_ of Don
+Pablo Moreno stood like a mud fort, barricaded by a palisade of the
+thorny cactus which the Mexicans call _ocotilla_. Within this fence,
+which inclosed several acres of standing grain and the miniature of a
+garden, there were all the signs of prosperity--a new wagon under its
+proper shade, a storehouse strongly built where chickens lingered
+about for grain, a clean-swept _ramada_ casting a deep shadow across
+the open doorway; but outside the inclosure the ground was stamped as
+level as a threshing floor. As Creede and Hardy drew near, an old man,
+grave and dignified, came out from the shady veranda and opened the
+gate, bowing with the most courtly hospitality.
+
+"_Buenos tardes, señores_," he pronounced, touching his hat in a
+military salute. "_Pasa!_ Welcome to my poor house."
+
+In response to these salutations Creede made the conventional
+replies, and then as the old man stood expectant he said in a hurried
+aside 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 Señor
+Moreno in his native tongue, he said: "Don Pablo, this is my friend
+Señor Hardy, who will live with me at Agua Escondida!"
+
+"With great pleasure, señor," said the old gentleman, removing his
+hat, "I make your acquaintance!"
+
+"The pleasure is mine," replied Hardy, returning the salutation, and
+at the sound of his own language Don Pablo burst into renewed
+protestations of delight. Within the cool shadow of his _ramada_ he
+offered his own chair and seated himself in another, neatly fashioned
+of mesquite wood and strung with thongs of rawhide. Then, turning his
+venerable head to the doorway which led to the inner court, he shouted
+in a terrible voice:
+
+"_Muchacho_!"
+
+Instantly from behind the adobe wall, around the corner of which he
+had been slyly peeping, a black-eyed boy appeared and stood before
+him, 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 after
+Hardy had accepted the gourd of cold water which the boy dipped from a
+porous _olla_, resting in the three-pronged fork of a trimmed
+mesquite, the old gentleman called for his tobacco. This the _mozo_
+brought in an Indian basket wrought by the Apaches who live across the
+river--Bull Durham and brown paper. The señor offered these to his
+guest, 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 the
+storekeeper gave me when I--No? No smoke nothing? Ah, well, well--no
+smoke, no Mexicano, as the saying goes." He regarded his guest
+doubtfully, with a shadow of disfavor. Then, rolling a cigarette, he
+remarked: "You have a very white skin, Señor Hardy; I think you have
+not been in Arizona very long."
+
+"Only a year," replied Hardy modestly.
+
+"_Muchacho!_" cried the señor. "Run and tell the señora to hasten the
+dinner. And where," he inquired, with the shrewd glance of a country
+lawyer, "and where did you learn, then, this excellent Spanish which
+you speak?"
+
+"At Old Camp Verde, to the north," replied Hardy categorically, and at
+the name Creede looked up with sudden interest. "I lived there when I
+was a boy."
+
+"Indeed!" exclaimed Don Pablo, raising his eyebrows. "And were your
+parents with you?"
+
+"Oh, yes," answered Hardy, "my father was an officer at the post."
+
+"Ah, _sí_, _sí_, _sí_," nodded the old man vigorously, "now I
+understand. Your father fought the Apaches and you played with the
+little Mexican boys, no? But now your skin is white--you have not
+lived long under our sun. When the Apaches were conquered your parents
+moved, of course--they are in San Francisco now, perhaps, or Nuevo
+York."
+
+"My father is living near San Francisco," admitted Hardy, "but," and
+his voice broke a little at the words, "my mother has been dead many
+years."
+
+"Ah, indeed," exclaimed Don Pablo sympathetically, "I am very sorry.
+My own _madre_ has been many years dead also. But what think you of
+our country? Is it not beautiful?"
+
+"Yes, indeed," responded Hardy honestly, "and you have a wonderful air
+here, very sweet and pure."
+
+"_Seguro!_" affirmed the old man, "_seguro que sí!_ But alas," he
+added sadly, "one cannot live on air alone. Ah, _que malo_, how bad
+these sheep are!"
+
+He sighed, and regarded his guest sadly with eyes that were bloodshot
+from long searching of the hills for cattle.
+
+"I remember the day when the first sheep came," he said, in the manner
+of 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 and
+swept my fine fields of standing corn away, but we did not regret it
+beyond reason for the grass came up on the mesas high as a horse's
+belly, and my cattle and those of my friend Don Luís, the good father
+of Jeff, here, spread out across the plains as far as the eye could
+see, and every cow raised her calf. But look! On the next year no rain
+came, and the river ran low, yet the plains were still yellow with
+last year's grass. All would have been well now as before, with grass
+for all, when down from the north like grasshoppers came the
+_borregos_--_baaa_, _baaa_, _baaa_--thousands of them, and they were
+starving. Never had I seen bands of sheep before in Arizona, nor the
+father of Don Jeff, but some say they had come from California in '77,
+when the drought visited there, and had increased in Yavapai and fed
+out all the north country until, when this second _año seco_ came
+upon them, there was no grass left to eat. And now, _amigo_, I will
+tell you one thing, and you may believe it, for I am an old man and
+have dwelt here long: it is not God who sends the dry years, but the
+sheep!
+
+"_Mira!_ I have seen the mowing machine of the Americano cut the tall
+grass and leave all level--so the starved sheep of Yavapai swept
+across our mesa and left it bare. Yet was there feed for all, for our
+cattle took to the mountains and browsed higher on the bushes, above
+where the sheep could reach; and the sheep went past and spread out on
+the 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 her
+lamb, and many two, and they grew fat and strong, and when the grass
+became dry on the desert because the rains had failed again, they came
+back, seeking their northern range where the weather was cool, for a
+sheep cannot endure the heat. Then we who had let them pass in pity
+were requited after the way of the _borregueros_--we were sheeped out,
+down to the naked rocks, and the sheepmen went on, laughing
+insolently. _Ay, que malo los borregueros_, what devils they are; for
+hunger took the strength from our cows so that they could not suckle
+their calves, and in giving birth many mothers and their little ones
+died together. In that year we lost half our cows, Don Luís Creede and
+I, and those that lived became thin and rough, as they are to this
+day, from journeying to the high mountains for feed and back to the
+far river for water.
+
+"Then the father of Jeff became very angry, so that he lost weight and
+his face became changed, and he took an oath that the first sheep or
+sheep-herder that crossed his range should be killed, and every one
+thereafter, as long as he should live. Ah, what a _buen hombre_ was
+Don Luís--if we had one man like him to-day the sheep would yet go
+round--a big man, with a beard, and he had no fear, no not for a
+hundred men. And when in November the sheep came bleating back, for
+they had promised so to do as soon as the feed was green, Don Luís met
+them at the river, and he rode along its bank, night and day,
+promising all the same fate who should come across--and, _umbre_, the
+sheep went round!"
+
+The old man slapped his leg and nodded his head solemnly. Then he
+looked across at Creede and his voice took on a great tenderness. "My
+friend has been dead these many years," he said, "but he was a true
+man."
+
+As Don Pablo finished his story the Señora opened the door of the
+kitchen where the table was already set with boiled beans, meat stewed
+with peppers, and thin corn cakes--the conventional _frijoles_, _carne
+con chili_, and _tortillas_ of the Mexicans--and some fried eggs in
+honor of the company. As the meal progressed the Señora maintained a
+discreet silence, patting out _tortillas_ and listening politely to
+her husband's stock of stories, for Don Pablo was lord in his own
+house. The big-eyed _muchacho_ sat in the corner, watching the corn
+cakes cook on the top of the stove and battening on the successive
+rations which were handed out to him. There were stories, as they ate,
+of the old times, of the wars and revolutions of Sonora, wherein the
+Señor Moreno had taken too brave a part, as his wounds and exile
+showed; strange tales of wonders and miracles wrought by the Indian
+doctors of Altár; of sacred snakes with the sign of the cross blazoned
+in gold on their foreheads, worshipped by the Indians with offerings
+of milk and tender chickens; of primitive life on the _haciendas_ of
+Sonora, where men served their masters for life and were rewarded at
+the end with a pension of beans and _carne seco_.
+
+Then as the day waned they sat at peace in the _ramada_, Moreno and
+Creede smoking, and Hardy watching the play of colors as the sun
+touched the painted crags of the Bulldog and lighted up the square
+summit of Red Butte across the river, throwing mysterious shadows into
+the black gorge which split it from crown to base. Between that high
+cliff and the cleft red butte flowed the Salagua, squirming through
+its 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 and
+through 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 rear
+up on their hind feet for browse or to snoop about the gate, but filed
+dutifully into their own corral and settled down for the night.
+
+"Your goats are well trained, Don Pablo," said Hardy, by way of
+conversation. "They come home of their own accord."
+
+"Ah, no," protested Moreno, rising from his chair. "It is not the
+goats but my goat dogs that are well trained. Come with me while I
+close the gate and I will show you my flock."
+
+The old gentleman walked leisurely down the trail to the corral, and
+at their approach Hardy saw two shaggy dogs of no breed suddenly
+detach themselves from the herd and spring defiantly forward.
+
+"_Quita se, quita se!"_ commanded Don Pablo, and at his voice they
+halted, 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 sheep
+across the river, but Tira and Diente fight them like devils. One
+Summer for a week the _chivas_ did not return, having wandered far up
+into the mountains, but in the end Tira and Diente fetched them safely
+home. 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, for
+you Americans often think the Mexicans are _tonto_, having no good
+sense, because our ways are different. When I perceived that my cattle
+were doomed by reason of the sheep trail crossing the river here at my
+feet 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 soon
+learned to rear up against the bushes and feed upon the browse which
+the sheep could not reach. Thus I thought that I might in time conquer
+the sheep, fighting the devil with fire; but the coyotes lay in wait
+constantly 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 the
+blind pups of a dog, living far from here, and placed each of them
+with a she-goat having one newborn kid; and while the kid was sucking
+at one teat the mother could not help but let down milk for the puppy
+at the other, until at last when the dog smell had left him she
+adopted him for her own. Now as the pups grew up they went out on the
+hills with their goat mother, and when, they being grown, she would no
+longer suckle them, they stole milk from the other she-goats; and so
+they live to-day, on milk and what rabbits they can catch. But
+whenever they come to the house I beat them and drive them back--their
+nature is changed now, and they love only goats. Eight years ago I
+raised my first goat dogs, for many of them desert their mothers and
+become house dogs, and now I have over a hundred goats, which they
+lead out morning and night."
+
+The old man lashed fast the gate to the corral and turned back toward
+the house.
+
+"Ah, yes," he said musingly, "the Americanos say continually that we
+Mexicanos are foolish--but look at me! Here is my good home, the same
+as before. I have always plenty beans, plenty meat, plenty flour,
+plenty coffee. I welcome every one to my house, to eat and sleep--yet
+I have plenty left. I am _muy contento_, Señor Hardy--yes, I am always
+happy. But the Americanos? No! When the sheep come, they fight; when
+their cattle are gone, they move; fight, fight; move, move; all the
+time." He sighed and gazed wearily at the barren hills.
+
+"Señor Hardy," he said at last, "you are young, yet you have seen the
+great world--perhaps you will understand. Jeff tells me you come to
+take charge of the Dos S Rancho, where the sheep come through by
+thousands, even as they did here when there was grass. I am an old man
+now; I have lived on this spot twenty-four years and seen much of the
+sheep; let me advise you.
+
+"When the sheepmen come across the river do not fight, as Don Jeff
+does continually, but let them pass. They are many and the cowmen are
+few; they are rich and we are very poor; how then can a few men whip
+many, and those armed with the best? And look--if a sheepman is killed
+there is the law, you know, and lawyers--yes, and money!" He shrugged
+his shoulders and threw out his hands, peeping ruefully through the
+fingers to symbolize prison bars.
+
+"Is it not so?" he asked, and for the first time an Americano agreed
+with him.
+
+"One thing more, then," said Don Pablo, lowering his voice and
+glancing toward the house, where Creede was conversing with the
+Señora. "The _papá_ of Don Jeff yonder was a good man, but he was a
+fighting Texano--and Jeff is of the same blood. Each year as the sheep
+come through I have fear for him, lest he should kill some saucy
+_borreguero_ and be sent to prison; for he has angry fits, like his
+father, and there are many bad men among the sheep-herders,--escaped
+criminals 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 make
+much of their herders, calling them brothers and _cuñados_ and what
+not, to make them stay, since the work is hard and dangerous. And to
+every one of them, whether herder or camp rustler, the owners give a
+rifle with ammunition, and a revolver to carry always. So they are
+drunk with valor. But our Jeff here has no fear of them, no, nor
+decent respect. He overrides them when the fit is on him, as if they
+were 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 to
+lurch before a bullet. "No?" he inquired, softly. "Ah, well, then, you
+must watch over him, for he is a good man, doing many friendships, and
+his father was a _buen hombre_, too, in the days when we all were
+rich. So look after him--for an old man," he added, and trudged
+wearily back to the house.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER V
+
+HIDDEN WATER
+
+
+The trail to Hidden Water leads up the Salagua, alternately climbing
+the hard mesa and losing itself in the shifting sand of the river
+bottom until, a mile or two below the mouth of the box cañon, it
+swings in to the edge of the water. But the Salagua is no purling
+brook, dignified by a bigger name; it is not even a succession of mill
+ponds like the dammed-up streams of the East: in its own name the
+Salagua is a _Rio_, broad and swift, with a current that clutches
+treacherously at a horse's legs and roars over the brink of stony
+reefs in a long, fretful line of rapids. At the head of a broad mill
+race, where the yellow flood waters boiled sullenly before they took
+their plunge, Creede pulled up and surveyed the river doubtfully.
+
+"Swim?" he inquired, and when Hardy nodded he shrugged his shoulders
+and 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, feeling
+their way among the submerged bowlders, while twenty feet below them
+the irresistible onrush of the current slipped smoothly over the rim,
+sending up a roar like the thunder of breakers. As they struggled up
+the opposite bank after a final slump into a narrow ditch Creede
+looked back and laughed merrily at his bedraggled companion.
+
+"How's that for high?" he inquired, slapping his wet legs. "I tell
+you, the old Salagua is a hell-roarer when she gits started. I
+wouldn't cross there this afternoon for a hundred dollars. She's away
+up since we took the wagon over last night, but about to-morrow you'll
+hear 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 his
+boots.
+
+"Why?" asked Hardy innocently. "Won't it interfere with your bringing
+in supplies?"
+
+"Sure thing," said Creede, and then he laughed maliciously. "But when
+you've been up here a while," he observed, "you'll savvy a lot of
+things that look kinder curious. If the old river would git up on its
+hind legs and walk, forty feet high, and stay there f'r a month, we
+cowmen would simply laugh ourselves to death. We don't give a dam' for
+supplies 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 order
+for these sheepmen; the old Salagua cuts right square across the
+country 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 for
+two weeks, tryin' to float twenty-five hundred head across the
+river--and there wasn't turkey buzzards enough in the country when
+they got through.
+
+"Last year they had the sand bars up around Hidden Water lined with
+carcasses two deep where they'd jest naturally crowded 'em into the
+river 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 warm
+weather holds we'll be able to git our _rodér_ good and started before
+the sheep come in. That's one reason why I never was able to do much
+with these sheepmen," he added. "They hit me right square in the
+middle 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 surprise
+party last year--but that was somethin' special. But now you're on the
+job, Rufe," he continued reassuringly, "I'm goin' to leave all sheep
+and sheepmen strictly alone--you can bank on that. Bein' as we are
+goin' to try the expeeriment I want to see it done right. I never made
+a cent fightin' 'em, that's a cinch, and if you can appeal to their
+better natures, w'y, go to it! I'd help you if I could, but bein' as I
+can'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 saddle
+and 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 it
+takes us about a month. Well, we look for the sheep to come in on us
+at 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 soon
+as the water goes down they'll come across with a rush. And if they're
+feelin' good-natured they'll spread out over The Rolls and drift
+north, but if they're feelin' bad they'll sneak up onto Bronco Mesa
+and scatter the cattle forty ways for Sunday, and bust up my _rodér_
+and raise hell generally. We had a little trouble over that last
+year," he added parenthetically.
+
+"Well, I'll turn over the house and the grub and the whole business to
+you this year and camp out with the boys under the mesquite--and then
+you can entertain them sheepmen and jolly 'em up no end. They won't
+have a dam' thing--horse feed, grub, tobacco, matches, nothin'! Never
+do have anythin'. I'd rather have a bunch of Apaches camped next to
+me--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 is
+Mr.--you're the superintendent of the Dos S. Your job is to protect
+the upper range, and I begin to think you can do it."
+
+There was a tone of half-hearted enthusiasm about this talk which
+marked it for a prepared "spiel," laboriously devised to speed the new
+superintendent 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 in
+the past? Haven't you been in the habit of feeding them when they came
+in?"
+
+"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 the
+same 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'--not
+from now on. But while we're on the subject and to avoid any future
+misunderstandin' I might just as well tell you right now that I
+can't see nothin' good in a sheepman--_nothin'!_ I'm like my cat Tom
+when he sees a rattlesnake, my hair bushes up clean over my ears and
+I see hell, damnation, and sudden death!"
+
+He rose up, frowning, on his mighty horse and gazed at Hardy with eyes
+that burned deep with passion. "If every sheep and sheepman in Arizona
+should drop dead at this minute," he said, "it would simply give me a
+laughin' sensation. God damn 'em!" he added passionately, and it
+sounded like a prayer.
+
+Half an hour later as they passed through the gloomy silence of the
+box cañon, picking their way over rocks and bowlders and driftwood
+cast forty feet above the river level in some terrific glut of waters,
+he began to talk again, evenly and quietly, pointing out indifferent
+things along the trail, and when at last they mounted the hill and
+looked down upon Hidden Water his anger was forgotten.
+
+"Well," he remarked, throwing out a hand, "there's home--how do you
+like it?"
+
+Hardy paused and looked it over critically--a broad V-shaped valley
+half a mile in length, beginning at the mouth of a great dry wash and
+spreading out through trees and hummocks down to the river. A broken
+row of cottonwoods and sycamores stretched along the farther side,
+following the broad, twisting bed of the sand wash where the last
+flood 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 the
+shadow of a _ramada_ showed where man had built his puny dwelling high
+in order to escape its fury. At their feet lay the ranch pasture, a
+broad elbow of the valley rich with grass and mesquite trees and
+fenced in with barbed wire that ran from cliff to cliff. Beyond the
+eastern wall the ground was rough and broken, cut up by innumerable
+gulches and waterways, and above its ridges there rose the forbidding
+crags of a black butte whose shoulders ran down to and confined the
+silvery river. Across the river and to the south the land was even
+rougher, rising in sheer precipices, above the crests of which towered
+a mighty needle of rock, standing out against the sky like a cathedral
+spire, yet of a greater dignity and magnificence--purple with the
+regal robes of distance.
+
+"That's Weaver's Needle," volunteered Creede, following his
+companion's eyes. "Every lost mine for a hundred miles around here is
+located by sightin' at that peak. The feller it's named after was
+picked up by the Apaches while he was out lookin' for the Lost
+Dutchman and there's been a Jonah on the hidden-treasure business ever
+since, judgin' by the results.
+
+"D'ye see that big butte straight ahead? That's Black Butte. She's so
+rough that even the mountain sheep git sore-footed, so they say--we
+have to go up there on foot and drive our cattle down with rocks. Old
+Bill Johnson's place is over the other side of that far butte; he's
+got a fine rich valley over there--the sheep haven't got in on him
+yet. 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 try
+to 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 too
+busy to talk for the next month. There's the Four Peaks, northeast of
+us, and our cows run clean to the rocks. They's more different brands
+in that forty miles than you saw in the whole Cherrycow country, I bet
+ye. I've got five myself on a couple hundred head that the old man
+left me--and everybody else the same way. You see, when the sheep come
+in down on the desert and around Moreno's we kept pushin' what was
+left of our cattle east and east until we struck the Peaks--and here
+we are, in a corner. The old judge has got nigh onto two thousand
+head, but they's about twenty of us poor devils livin' up here in the
+rocks 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 that
+bluff back of the house down there? That runs from here clean to the
+Four Peaks without a break, and then it swings west in a kind of an ox
+bow and makes that long ridge up there to the north that we called the
+Juate. All that high country between our house here and the
+Peaks--everythin' east of that long bluff--is Bronco Mesa. That's the
+upper range the judge asked me to point out to you. Everythin' west of
+Bronco Mesa is The Rolls--all them rollin' hills out there--and they's
+feed enough out there to keep all the sheep in the country, twice
+over--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' to
+sneak 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 back
+again 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 good
+level land and simply ask 'em as a favor to please keep off of the
+bench up there and leave our cows what little cactus and browse they
+is. But no--seems like as soon as you give one of them Chihuahua
+Mexicans a gun he wants to git a fight out of somebody, and so they
+come crowdin' in across our dead line, just to see if they can't git
+some of us goin'."
+
+Once more his eyes were burning, his breath came hard, and his voice
+became high and sustained. "Well, I give one of 'em all he wanted," he
+said, "and more. I took his dam' pistol away and beat him over the
+head with it--and I _moved_ him, too. He was Jasper Swope's pet, and I
+reckon he had his orders, but I noticed the rest went round."
+
+He stopped abruptly and sat silent, twisting his horse's mane
+uneasily. Then he looked up, smiling curiously.
+
+"If you hadn't come up this year I would've killed some of them
+fellers," he said quietly. "I'm gittin' as crazy as old Bill
+Johnson--and he hears voices. But now lookee here, Rufe, you don't
+want to believe a word I say about this trouble. Don't you pay any
+attention to me; I'm bughouse, and I know it. Jest don't mention sheep
+to me and I'll be as happy as an Injun on a mescal jag. Come on, I'll
+run you to the house!"
+
+Throwing his weight forward he jumped his big horse down the rocky
+trail and went thundering across the flat, whooping and laughing and
+swinging under mesquite trees as if his whole heart was in the race.
+Catching the contagion Hardy's sorrel dashed madly after him, and the
+moment they struck the open he went by like a shot, over-running the
+goal and dancing around the low adobe house like a circus horse.
+
+"By Joe," exclaimed Creede as he came up, "that _caballo_ of yours can
+run some. I'm goin' to make a little easy money off of Bill Lightfoot
+when he comes in. He's been blowin' about that gray of his for two
+years now and I'll match you ag'inst him for a yearlin'. And don't you
+forgit, boy, we're going after that black stallion up on Bronco Mesa
+just as soon as the _rodér_ is over."
+
+His face was all aglow with friendliness and enthusiasm now, but as
+they started toward the house, after turning their horses into the
+corral, 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 the
+coyotes ain't caught him while I was gone," he said at length. "They
+treed him a few times last year, but he just stayed up there and
+yelled until I came--spoiled his voice callin' so long, but you bet he
+can purr, all right."
+
+He listened once more, long and anxiously, then his face lit up
+suddenly.
+
+"Hear that?" he asked, motioning toward the bluff, and while Hardy was
+straining his ears a stunted black cat with a crook in his tail came
+into view, racing in wildly from the great pile of fallen bowlders
+that lay at the base of the cliff, and yowling in a hoarse, despairing
+voice, like a condemned kitten in a sack.
+
+"Hello, Tommy, Tommy, Tommy!" cried Creede, and as the cat stopped
+abruptly, blinking warily at Hardy, he strode forward and gathered it
+gently into his arms. "Well, you poor little devil," he exclaimed,
+stroking its rough coat tenderly, "you're all chawed up again! Did
+them dam' coyotes try to git you while I was gone?" And with many
+profane words of endearment he hugged it against his breast,
+unashamed.
+
+"There's the gamiest cat in Arizona," he said, bringing him over to
+Hardy with conscious pride. "Whoa, kitten, he won't hurt you. Dogged
+if he won't tackle a rattlesnake, and kill 'im, too. I used to be
+afraid to git out of bed at night without puttin' on my boots, but if
+any 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 the
+back 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 in
+this 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'm
+afraid poor Tommy is elected; this is a dam' bad country for cats."
+
+He set him down with a glance of admiring solicitude, such as a
+Spartan mother might have bestowed upon her fighting offspring, and
+kicked 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 always
+affect to encourage any vagrant breeze. On one side of the _corredor_
+was a single large room, half storehouse, half bunk room, with a
+litter of pack saddles, rawhide kyacks and leather in one corner, a
+heap of baled hay, grain, and provisions in the other, and the rest
+strewn with the general wreckage of a camp--cooking utensils, Dutch
+ovens, canvas pack covers, worn-out saddles, and ropes. On the other
+side the rooms were more pretentious, one of them even having a board
+floor. First came the large living-room with a stone chimney and a
+raised hearth before the fireplace; whereon, each on its separate
+pile of ashes, reposed two Dutch ovens, a bean kettle, and a
+frying-pan, with a sawed-off shovel in the corner for scooping up
+coals. Opening into the living-room were two bedrooms, which, upon
+exploration, turned out to be marvellously fitted up, with high-headed
+beds, bureaus and whatnots, besides a solid oak desk.
+
+To these explorations of Hardy's Creede paid but slight attention, he
+being engaged in cooking a hurried meal and watching Tommy, who had a
+bad habit of leaping up on the table and stealing; but as Hardy paused
+by the desk in the front bedroom he looked up from mixing his bread
+and said:
+
+"That's your room, Rufe, so you can clean it up and move in. I
+generally sleep outdoors myself--and I ain't got nothin', nohow. Jest
+put them guns and traps into the other room, so I can find 'em. Aw, go
+ahead, you'll need that desk to keep your papers in. You've got to
+write all the letters and keep the accounts, anyhow. It always did
+make my back ache to lean over that old desk, and I'm glad to git
+shent of it.
+
+"Pretty swell rooms, ain't they? Notice them lace curtains? The
+kangaroo rats have chawed the ends a little, but I tell you, when
+Susie and Sallie Winship was here this was the finest house for forty
+miles. That used to be Sallie's room, where you are now. Many's the
+time in the old days that I've rid up here to make eyes at Sallie, but
+the old lady wouldn't stand for no sich foolishness. Old Winship
+married her back in St. Louie and brought her out here to slave around
+cookin' for _rodér_ hands, and she wanted her daughters to live
+different. Nope, she didn't want no bow-legged cow-punch for a
+son-in-law, and I don't blame her none, because this ain't no place
+for 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 table
+absently, and began pinching biscuits into the sizzling fat of the
+Dutch 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 a
+little row of coals along the upturned rim.
+
+"Didn't you never hear about the Winship girls?" he asked, stroking
+the cat with his floury hands. "No? Well, it was on account of them
+that the judge took over this ranch. Old man Winship was one of these
+old-time Indian-fightin', poker-playin' sports that come pretty nigh
+havin' their own way about everythin'. He had a fine ranch up
+here--the old Dos S used to brand a thousand calves and more, every
+round-up; but when he got old he kinder speculated in mines and loaned
+money, and got in the hole generally, and about the time the sheep
+drifted 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 the
+best they could, but jest as everythin' was lovely the drouth struck
+'em all in a heap, and when the Widde' Winship got the estate settled
+up she didn't have nothin' much left but cows and good will. She
+couldn't sell the cows--you never can, right after these dry
+spells--and as I said, she wouldn't let the girls marry any of us
+cowmen to kinder be man for the outfit; so what does she do but run
+the ranch herself!
+
+"Yes, sir--Susie and Sallie, that was as nice and eddicated girls as
+you ever see, they jest put on overalls and climbed their horses and
+worked them cattle themselves. Course they had _rodér_ hands to do the
+dirty work in the corrals--brandin' and ear-markin' and the like--but
+for 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 was
+doin', would do everythin' in his power to help 'em along, even to
+runnin' a Dos S on an _orehanna_ once in a while instead of hoggin' it
+himself; but they's fellers in this world, I'm convinced, that would
+steal milk from a sick baby!"
+
+The brawny foreman of the Dos S dropped the cat and threw out his
+hands impressively, and once more the wild glow crept back into his
+eyes.
+
+"You remember that Jim Swope that I introduced you to down on the
+desert? Well, he's a good sheepman, but he's on the grab for money
+like 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 an
+account with him--somethin' like a thousand dollars--givin' her note
+for it, of course. It's about four years ago, now, that she happened
+to be down in Moroni when court was in session, when she finds out by
+accident that this same Jim Swope, seein' that cattle was about to go
+up, is goin' to close her out. He'd 'a' done it, too, like fallin' off
+a log, if the old judge hadn't happened to be in town lookin' up some
+lawsuit. When he heard about it he was so durned mad he wrote out a
+check for a thousand dollars and give it to her; and then, when she
+told him all her troubles, he up and bought the whole ranch at her own
+price--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 and
+dumped 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 Sunflower
+and up the Alamo, from all the sheeped-out and desolate Four Peaks
+country the cowboys drifted in to Hidden Water for the round-up,
+driving their extra mounts before them. Beneath the brush _ramada_ of
+the ranch house they threw off their canvas-covered beds and turned
+their pack horses out to roll, strapping bells and hobbles on the bad
+ones, and in a day the deserted valley of Agua Escondida became alive
+with great preparations. A posse of men on fresh mounts rode out on
+Bronco Mesa, following with unerring instinct the trail of the Dos S
+horses, balking their wild breaks for freedom and rushing them
+headlong into the fenced pasture across the creek. As the hired hands
+of the Dos S outfit caught up their mounts and endeavored to put the
+fear of God into their hearts, the mountain boys got out the keg of
+horseshoes and began to shoe--every man his own blacksmith.
+
+It was rough work, all around, whether blinding and topping off the
+half-wild ponies or throwing them and tacking cold-wrought "cowboy"
+shoes to their flint-like feet, and more than one enthusiast came away
+limping or picking the loose skin from a bruised hand. Yet through it
+all the dominant note of dare-devil hilarity never failed. The
+solitude of the ranch, long endured, had left its ugly mark on all of
+them. They were starved for company and excitement; obsessed by
+strange ideas which they had evolved out of the tumuli of their past
+experience and clung to with dogged tenacity; warped with egotism;
+stubborn, boastful, or silent, as their humor took them, but now all
+eager 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 a
+ridge 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 or
+weakness in all that crowd that he was not cognizant of, in the back
+of his scheming brain. The men that could rope, the men that could
+ride, the quitters, the blowhards, the rattleheads, the lazy, the
+crooked, 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 odd
+rock, so about camp he tried out his puppets, one by one, to keep his
+map complete.
+
+As they gathered about the fire that evening it was Bill Lightfoot who
+engaged his portentous interest. He listened to Bill's boastful
+remarks critically, cocking his head to one side and smiling whenever
+he mentioned his horse.
+
+"Yes, sir," asserted Bill belligerently, "I mean it--that gray of mine
+can skin anything in the country, for a hundred yards or a mile. I've
+got money that says so!"
+
+"Aw, bull!" exclaimed Creede scornfully.
+
+"Bull, nothin'," retorted Lightfoot hotly. "I bet ye--I bet ye a
+thousand dollars they ain't a horse in Arizona that can keep out of my
+dust for a quarter!"
+
+"Well, I know you ain't got no thousand dollars--ner ten," sneered
+Creede. "Why don't you bet yearlings? If you'd blow some of that hot
+air through a tube it'd melt rocks, I reckon. But talk cow, man; we
+can 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 broke
+yet!"
+
+"He can run, all right. I'll go you for a yearling heifer. Put up or
+shut up."
+
+And so the race was run. Early in the morning the whole _rodéo_ outfit
+adjourned to the _parada_ ground out by the pole corrals, the open
+spot where they work over the cattle. Hardy danced his sorrel up to
+the line where the gray was waiting, there was a scamper of feet, a
+streak of dust, and Bill Lightfoot was out one yearling heifer. A
+howling mob of cowboys pursued them from the scratch, racing each
+other to the finish, and then in a yell of laughter at Bill Lightfoot
+they 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 the
+wagon road toiled for so many weary miles, reached out and touched the
+valley, they came back in a body, hustling a bunch of cattle along
+before them. And such cattle! After his year with the Chiricahua
+outfit in that blessed eastern valley where no sheep as yet had ever
+strayed Hardy was startled by their appearance. Gaunt, rough, stunted,
+with sharp hips and hollow flanks and bellies swollen from eating the
+unprofitable browse of cactus and bitter shrubs, they nevertheless
+sprinted along on their wiry legs like mountain bucks; and a peculiar
+wild, haggard stare, stamped upon the faces of the old cows, showed
+its replica even in the twos and yearlings. Yet he forbore to ask
+Creede the question which arose involuntarily to his lips, for he
+knew the inevitable answer.
+
+Day after day, as they hurriedly combed The Rolls for what few cattle
+remained on the lower range, the cowmen turned their eyes to the river
+and to the cañons and towering cliffs beyond, for the sheep; until at
+last as they sat by the evening fire Creede pointed silently to the
+lambent flame of a camp fire, glowing like a torch against the
+southern sky.
+
+"There's your friends, Rufe," he said, and the cowmen glanced at Hardy
+inquiringly.
+
+"I might as well tell you fellers," Creede continued, "that one reason
+Rufe come up here was to see if he couldn't do somethin' with these
+sheepmen."
+
+He paused and looked at the circle of faces with a smile that was
+almost a sneer.
+
+"You fellers wouldn't back me up when it come to fightin'--none except
+Ben Reavis and the Clark boys--so I told the old judge we might as
+well 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 fellers
+won't fight, you might as well look pleasant about it. What's that you
+say, Bill?"
+
+He turned with a sardonic grin to Lightfoot, who had already been
+reduced to a state of silence by the relentless persecutions of the
+_rodéo_ boss.
+
+"I never said nawthin'," replied Lightfoot sullenly. "But if you'd've
+gone at 'em the way we wanted to," he blurted out, as the grin
+broadened, "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 sent
+up 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 a
+while?"
+
+"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 never
+said 'Boo!' at 'em. Tucked your young cannon into the seat of your
+pants and flew, dam' ye, and that's all there was to it. But that's
+all right," he added resignedly. "If you fellers don't want to fight
+you don't have to. But, dam' it, keep shut about it now, until you
+mean business."
+
+As to just who this man Hardy was and what he proposed to do with the
+sheep 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 drifting
+his horse over the rocky ridges, and that Jeff Creede took him as a
+matter of course. But, for a superintendent, he never seemed to have
+much to say for himself. It was only when he walked up to his sorrel
+pony in that gentle, precise way he had, and went through the familiar
+motions of climbing a "bad one" that they sensed, dimly, a past not
+without experience and excitement. Even in the preoccupation of their
+own affairs and doings they could not fail to notice a supple strength
+in his white hands, a military precision in his movements, and above
+all a look in his eyes when he became excited--the steady resolute
+stare with which his militant father had subdued outlaw horses, buck
+soldiers, and Apaches, even his own son, when all had not gone well.
+It was this which had inspired Bill Lightfoot to restrain his tongue
+when he was sore over his defeat; and even though Hardy confessed to
+being a rider, somehow no one ever thought of sawing off Spike
+Kennedy's "side winder" on him. The quiet, brooding reserve which came
+from his soldier life protected him from such familiar jests, and
+without knowing why, the men of the Four Peaks looked up to him.
+
+Even after his mission was announced, Hardy made no change in his
+manner of life. He rode out each day on the round-up, conning the lay
+of 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 did
+his share of the cooking and said little, listening attentively to the
+random talk. Only when sheep were mentioned did he show a marked
+interest, 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 to
+do, it was not entirely due to an overrated reticence, for he did not
+know himself. Not a man there but had run the gamut of human emotions
+in trying to protect his ranch; they had driven herders off with guns;
+they had cut their huddled bands at night and scattered them for the
+coyotes; they had caught unwary Mexican _borregueros_ in forbidden
+pastures and administered "shap lessons," stretching them over
+bowlders and spanking them with their leather leggings; they had
+"talked reason" to the bosses in forceful terms; they had requested
+them politely to move; they had implored them with tears in their
+eyes--and still like a wave of the sea, like a wind, like a scourge of
+grasshoppers which cannot be withstood, the sheep had come on, always
+hungry, always fat, always more.
+
+Nor was there any new thing in hospitality. The last bacon and bread
+had been set upon the table; baled hay and grain, hauled in by day's
+works from the alfalfa fields of Moroni and the Salagua, had been fed
+to 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 meat
+of chance herders had been as ravenously devoured, the water casks of
+patient "camp-rustlers" had been drained midway between the river and
+camp, and stray wethers had showed up in the round-up fry-pans in the
+shape of mutton. Ponder as he would upon the problem no solution
+offered itself to Hardy. He had no policy, even, beyond that of common
+politeness; and as the menacing clamor of the sheep drifted up to them
+from the river the diplomat who was to negotiate the great truce began
+to wonder whether, after all, he was the man of the hour or merely
+another college graduate gone wrong.
+
+On the opposite side of the river in bands of two and three thousand
+the cohorts of the sheep gathered to make the crossing--gathered and
+waited, for the Salagua was still high. At the foot of the high
+cliffs, from the cleft cañon of which water flowed forth as if some
+rod had called it from the rock, the leaders of the sheepmen were
+sitting in council, gazing at the powerful sweep of the level river,
+and then at the distant sand bar where their charges must win the
+shore or be swept into the whirlpool below. Ah, that whirlpool! Many a
+frightened ewe and weakling lamb in years past had drifted helplessly
+into its swirl and been sucked down, to come up below the point a
+water-logged carcass. And for each stinking corpse that littered the
+lower bar the boss sheep owner subtracted five dollars from the sum of
+his hard-earned wealth. Already on the flats below them the willows
+and burro bushes were trembling as eager teeth trimmed them of their
+leaves--in a day, or two days, the river bottom would be fed bare; and
+behind and behind, clear to the broad floor of the desert, band after
+band was pressing on to the upper crossing of the Salagua.
+
+As Hardy rode up over the rocky point against which the river threw
+its full strength and then, flung inexorably back, turned upon itself
+in a sullen whirlpool, he could see the sheep among the willows, the
+herders standing impassive, leaning upon their guns as more rustic
+shepherds lean upon their staves, and above, at the head of the
+crossing, the group of men, sitting within the circle of their horses
+in anxious conference. If any of them saw him, outlined like a
+sentinel against the sky, they made no sign; but suddenly a man in a
+high Texas hat leaped up from the group, sprang astride his mule and
+spurred him into the cold water. For the first twenty feet the mule
+waded, shaking his ears; then he slumped off the edge of a submerged
+bench into deeper water and swam, heading across the stream but
+drifting 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 plunged
+back into the water, shouting out hoarse orders to his Mexicans, who
+were smoking idly in the shade of overhanging rocks. Immediately they
+scrambled to their feet and scattered along the hillside. The stroke
+of axes echoed from the crags above, and soon men came staggering down
+to the river, dragging the thorny limbs of _palo verdes_ behind them.
+With these they quickly constructed a brush fence in the form of a
+wing, running parallel to the cliff and making a chute which opened
+into the river.
+
+Then with a great braying and bleating a huddle of sheep moved
+unwillingly along it, led by bold goats with crooked horns and
+resolute beards, and pushed forward by that same reckless rider on his
+black mule, assisted by a horde of shouting Mexicans. But at the touch
+of the cold water, two days from the snow beds of the White Mountains,
+even the hardy bucks stepped back and shook their heads defiantly. In
+vain with showers of rocks and flapping tarpaulins the herders stormed
+the rear of the press--every foot was set against them and the sheep
+only rushed about along the edge of the herd or crowded in
+close-wedged masses against the bluff. At last a line of men leaped
+into the enclosure, holding up a long canvas wagon-cover and,
+encircling the first section of the leaders, shoved them by main force
+into the river.
+
+Instantly the goats took water, swimming free, and below them the man
+on the black mule shouted and waved his broad Texas hat, heading them
+across the stream. But the timid sheep turned back behind him, landing
+below the fence against all opposition, and the babel of their braying
+rose higher and higher, as if in protest against their unlucky fate.
+Again and again the herders, stripped to their underclothes, pushed
+the unwilling sheep into the current, wading out to their chins to
+keep them headed across; each time the sodden creatures evaded them
+and, 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 the
+struggle with yellow, staring eyes which showed no trace of fear. Like
+brave generals of a craven band they were alone in their hardihood
+and, with their feet upon the promised land, were doomed either to
+proceed alone or return to their companions. So at last they did,
+plunging in suddenly, while the man on the mule spurred in below in a
+vain 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 of
+Jim, the feller I introduced you to. Sure, Jasp and I have had lo-ong
+talks together--but he don't like me any more." He twisted his nose
+and made a face, as if to intimate that it was merely a childish
+squabble, and Hardy said no more. He was growing wise.
+
+The next morning, and the next, Jasper Swope made other attempts at
+the crossing; and then, as the snow water from the high mountains
+slipped by and the warm weather dried up by so much each little
+stream, he was able at last to ford the diminished river. But first,
+with that indomitable energy which marked him at every move, he
+cleared a passage along the base of the cliff to a place where the
+earth-covered moraine broke off at the edge of the water. Here a broad
+ledge shot down to the river like a toboggan slide, with a six-foot
+jump off at the bottom.
+
+Once on this chute, with the strong tug of the canvas wagon-covers
+behind, 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 deep
+current Swope and his helpers waded out in a line below, shunting each
+ewe and wading toward the farther shore. There on the edge of the
+sand spit they huddled in a bunch, gathering about the hardier bucks
+and serving as a lure for those that followed. As cut after cut was
+forced into the stream a long row of bobbing heads stretched clear
+across the river, each animal striving desperately to gain the
+opposite bank and landing, spent and puffing, far below. A Mexican boy
+at intervals drove these strays up the shore to the big bunch and then
+concealed himself in the bushes lest by his presence he turn some
+timid swimmer back and the whirlpool increase its toll. So they
+crossed them in two herds, the wethers first, and then the ewes and
+lambs--and all the little lambs that could not stem the stream were
+floated across in broad pieces of tarpaulin whose edges were held up
+by wading men.
+
+From Lookout Point it was a majestic spectacle, the high cliffs, the
+silvery river gliding noiselessly out from its black cañon, the white
+masses of sheep, clustering on either side of the water--and as the
+work went ahead merrily the Mexicans, their naked bodies gleaming like
+polished bronze in the ardent sun, broke into a wild refrain, a love
+song, perhaps, or a _cancion_ of old Mexico. Working side by side with
+his men Jasper Swope joined in the song himself, and as they returned
+empty-handed he seized the tallest and strongest of them and ducked
+him in the water while his retainers roared with laughter. And Hardy,
+sitting unnoticed upon his horse, began to understand why these
+low-browed barbarians from Mexico were willing to fight, and if need
+be to die, for their masters. The age of feudalism had returned--the
+lords of the sheep went forth like barons, sharing every hardship and
+leading the way in danger, and their men followed with the same
+unthinking devotion that the Myrmidons showed for noble Achilles or
+the 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 monument
+placed high upon the point to give witness to their victory. As the
+sheep crossed they were even allowed to straggle out along the slopes
+of the forbidden mesa, untended by their shepherds; and if the upper
+range was the special reserve of the cowmen the sheep owners showed no
+knowledge of the fact. For two days the grazing herd crept slowly
+along the mesquite-covered flat toward Lookout Point, and on the third
+morning they boiled up over the rocks and spewed down into the valley
+of 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 around
+here will be as level as a billiard table and they won't be enough
+horse feed in the valley to keep a burro. The town herd pulls out for
+Bender this mornin' and the rest of us will move up to Carrizo
+Creek."
+
+He hurried away to oversee the packing, but when all was ready he
+waved the boys ahead and returned to the conversation.
+
+"As I was sayin' a while ago, you won't see nothin' but sheep around
+here now for the next two weeks--and all I want to say is, keep 'em
+out of the pasture, and f'r God's sake don't let 'em corral in the
+brandin' pens! They're dirty enough already, but if you git about six
+inches of sheep manure in there and then mill a few hundred head of
+cattle around on top of it, the dust would choke a skunk. Our cows
+ain't so over-particular about that sheep smell, but if we poor
+cowboys has got to breathe sheep and eat sheep and spit up sheep every
+time we brand, it's crowdin' hospitality pretty strong. But if they
+want grub or clothes or tabac, go to it--and see if you can't keep 'em
+off the upper range."
+
+He paused and gazed at Hardy with eyes which suggested a world of
+advice and warning--then, leaving it all unsaid, he turned wearily
+away.
+
+"I look to find you with a sprained wrist," he drawled, "when I come
+back--throwin' flapjacks for them sheepmen!" He made the quick motion
+of turning a pancake in midair, smiled grimly, and galloped after the
+long line of horses and packs that was stringing along up the Bronco
+Mesa trail. And, having a premonition of coming company, Hardy went in
+by the fireplace and put on a big kettle of beef. He was picking over
+another mess of beans when he heard the clatter of hoofs outside and
+the next moment the door was kicked violently open.
+
+It was Jasper Swope who stood on the threshold, his high Texas hat
+thrust far back upon his head--and if he felt any surprise at finding
+the 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, drawing
+nearer. "'Scuse me if I pry into this matter, but I'm gittin'
+interested." He paused and showed a jagged set of teeth beneath his
+bristling red mustache, sneeringly.
+
+"Well, I'll tell you," answered Hardy easily. "I thought some white
+man might come along later and I'd ask him to dinner." He fixed his
+eyes upon the sheepman with an instant's disapproval and then resumed
+his cookery. As for Swope, his gray eyes flashed sudden fire from
+beneath 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 out
+toward 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, and
+still with disapproval.
+
+"D'ye call that a white man's way of entering another man's house?" he
+inquired pointedly.
+
+"Well," temporized Swope, and then he stopped. "A man in my line of
+business gits in a hurry once in a while," he said lamely. "But I'm
+hungry, 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 of
+beans, 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 quizzical
+smile lurked beneath his dripping mustache as he reached over and
+hefted the coffeepot.
+
+"I've noticed," replied Hardy, "that you sheepmen get in a hurry once
+in 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 reckon
+you 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 get
+sheep across a river. But when it comes to getting along with cowmen,"
+he added, as the sheepman grinned his self-approval, "you don't seem
+to stack up very high."
+
+"Oh, I don't, hey?" demanded Swope defiantly. "Well, how about the
+cowmen? Your friend Creede gets along with sheepmen like a house
+afire, don't he? Him and a bunch of his punchers jumped on one of my
+herders last Fall and dam' nigh beat him to death. Did you ever hear
+of a sheepman jumpin' on a cowboy? No, by Gad, and you never will! We
+carry arms to protect ourselves, but we never make no trouble."
+
+He paused and combed the coffee grounds out of his heavy red mustache
+with fingers that were hooked like an eagle's talons from clutching at
+sheep in the cold water.
+
+"I don't doubt, Mr. Superintendent," he said, with sinister
+directness, "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 remember
+it if any trouble should come up; we sheepmen have never gone beyond
+our legal rights, and we've got the law behind us. The laws of the
+United States and the statutes of this Territory guarantee us the
+right 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 his
+intentions, and Hardy made no reply. His whole mind seemed centred on
+a handful of beans from which he was picking out the rocks and little
+lumps of clay which help to make up full weight.
+
+"Well!" challenged Swope, after waiting for his answer, "ain't that
+straight?"
+
+"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 do
+about it?"
+
+"About what?" inquired Hardy innocently.
+
+"Aw, you know," replied Swope impatiently. "How about that upper
+range?" He shoved back his chair as he spoke, and his eyes lit up in
+anticipation of the battle.
+
+"Well," responded Hardy judicially, "if you've got the legal right to
+go up there, and if you're goin' where you dam' please, anyhow, it
+don't look like I could do anything." He paused and smiled patiently
+at the sheepman.
+
+"You know very well, Mr. Swope," he said, "that if you want to go up
+on that mesa and sheep off the feed we haven't got any legal means of
+preventing you. But you know, too, that there isn't more than enough
+feed 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 he
+lapsed into silence, while Swope picked his teeth and thought.
+
+"Where'd you come from?" he said at last, as if, forgetting all that
+had passed, his mind had come back from a far country, unbiassed by
+the facts.
+
+"Over the mountains," replied Hardy, jerking his thumb toward the
+east.
+
+"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 settled
+thereby, he said: "All right, pardner, bein' as you put it that way, I
+reckon I'll go around."
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER VII
+
+HELL'S HIP POCKET
+
+
+In the days of Ahaz, king of Judah, Isaiah the son of Amoz is reported
+to have seen in a vision a wolf which dwelt with a lamb, while a lion
+ate straw like an ox, and a weaned child put his hand in the
+cockatrice's den. Equally beautiful, as a dream, was the peace at
+Hidden Water, where sheepman and cattleman sat down together in amity;
+only, when it was all over, the wolf wiped his chops and turned away
+with a wise smile--the millennium not having come, as yet, in
+Arizona.
+
+Hardy's wrist was a little lame, figuratively speaking, from throwing
+flapjacks for hungry sheep herders, and the pile of grain and baled
+hay in the storehouse had dwindled materially; but as the sheep came
+through, band after band, and each turned off to the west, stringing
+in long bleating columns out across The Rolls, he did not begrudge the
+hard labor. After Jasper Swope came Jim, and Donald McDonald, as jolly
+a Scottish shepherd as ever lived, and Bazan, the Mexican, who traced
+his blood back to that victorious general whom Maximilian sent into
+Sonora. There were Frenchmen, smelling rank of garlic and mutton
+tallow; Basques with eyes as blue and vacant as the summer skies;
+young Mormons working on shares, whose whole fortune was wrapped up in
+the one huddle of sheep which they corralled and counted so carefully;
+and then the common herders, fighting Chihuahuanos, with big round
+heads and staring eyes, low-browed Sonorans, slow and brutal in their
+ways, men of all bloods and no blood, lumped together in that
+careless, all-embracing Western term "Mexicans."
+
+But though they were low and primitive in mental processes, nearer to
+their plodding burros than to the bright-eyed sensitive dogs, they
+were the best who would consent to wander with the sheep through the
+wilderness, seeing nothing, doing nothing, knowing nothing, having
+before 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, that
+was it--the one love and loyalty of those simple-minded creatures who,
+unfit for the hurry and competition of the great world, sold their
+lives by spans of months for twenty dollars and found; it was always
+to the boss that they looked for help, and in return they did his
+will.
+
+When the great procession had drifted past, with its braying clamor,
+its dogs, its men on muleback and afoot, the herders with their
+carbines, the camp rustlers with their burros, belled and laden with
+water casks and kyacks of grub, the sheep owners hustling about with
+an energy that was almost a mania, Hardy sat beneath the _ramada_ of
+the ranch house with dog-fighting Tommy in his lap and pondered deeply
+upon the spectacle. A hundred thousand sheep, drifting like the
+shadows of clouds across the illimitable desert, crossing swift
+rivers, climbing high mountains, grazing beneath the northern pines;
+and then turning south again and pouring down through the passes like
+the resistless front of a cloudburst which leaves the earth bare and
+wasted in its wake. For this one time he had turned the stream aside
+and the tall grass still waved upon the upper range; but the next
+time, or the next--what then?
+
+Long and seriously he contemplated the matter, dwelling now upon the
+rough good nature of the sheepmen and this almost miraculous
+demonstration of their good will; then remembered with vague
+misgivings their protestations against the unlawful violence which
+presumed to deny them what was their legal right--free grazing on all
+government lands. And in the end he wrote a brief note to Judge Ware,
+telling him that while the sheepmen had accepted his hospitality in a
+most friendly spirit and had respected the upper range, it was in his
+opinion only a question of time until they would take the whole
+country, unless they were restrained by law. He therefore recommended
+that the judge look up the status of the bill to set aside the
+watershed of the Salagua as a National Forest Reserve, and in case the
+opposition to it indicated any long delay it would be well either to
+sell out or reduce his stock. This note he sent out by Rafael, the
+Mexican roustabout, who was still hauling in supplies from Bender, and
+then with a glad heart he saddled up his horse, left a bait of meat on
+the floor for Tommy, and struck out over the mesa for Carrizo Creek.
+
+After his long confinement in the pasture the sorrel galloped along
+the rocky trail with the grace and swiftness of an antelope, the warm
+dry wind puffed little whirls of dust before them, and once more Hardy
+felt like a man. If for the best interests of his employer it was
+desirable that he cook beef and bread for sheepmen, he could do so
+with 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 his
+soul had never been humbled and he rode forth now like a king.
+
+Upon that great mesa where the bronco mustangs from the Peaks still
+defied the impetuosity of men, the giant _sahuaros_ towered in a
+mighty forest as far as the eye could see, yet between each stalk
+there lay a wide space, studded here and there with niggerheads of
+bristling spines, and fuzzy _chollas_, white as the backs of sheep and
+thorny beyond reason. Nor was this all: in the immensity of distance
+there was room for _sahuaros_ and niggerheads and _chollas_, and much
+besides. In every gulch and sandy draw the _palo verdes_, their yellow
+flowers gleaming in the sun, stood out like lines of fire; the bottoms
+of the steep ravines which gashed the mesa were illuminated with the
+gaudy tassels of mesquite blossoms; gray coffee-berry bushes clumped
+up against the sides of ridges, and in every sheltered place the long
+grass waved its last-year's banners, while the fresh green of tender
+growth matted the open ground like a lawn. Baby rabbits, feeding along
+their runways in the grass, sat up at his approach or hopped
+innocently into the shadow of the sheltering cat-claws; jack-rabbits
+with black-tipped ears galloped madly along before him, imagining
+themselves pursued, and in every warm sandy place where the lizards
+took the sun there was a scattering like the flight of arrows as the
+long-legged swift-jacks rose up on their toes and flew. All nature was
+in a gala mood and Rufus Hardy no less. Yet as he rode along, gazing
+at the dreamy beauty of this new world, the old far-away look crept
+back into his eyes, a sad, brooding look such as one often sees in
+the faces of little children who have been crossed, and the stern
+lines at the corners of his mouth were deeper when he drew rein above
+Carrizo Creek.
+
+Below him lay the panorama of a mountain valley--the steep and rocky
+walls; the silvery stream writhing down the middle; the green and
+yellow of flowers along the lowlands; and in the middle, to give it
+life, a great herd of cattle on the _parada_ ground, weaving and
+milling before the rushes of yelling horsemen, intent on cutting out
+every steer in the herd. Beyond lay the corrals of peeled cottonwood,
+and a square house standing out stark and naked in the supreme
+ugliness of corrugated iron, yet still oddly homelike in a land where
+shelter was scarce. As he gazed, a mighty voice rose up to him from
+the midst of the turmoil, the blatting of calves, the mooing of cows
+and 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 are
+scarce, wherever you go.
+
+"Jest in time!" said Creede, grinning his welcome, "we're goin' over
+into Hell's Hip Pocket to-morrow--the original hole in the ground--to
+bring out Bill Johnson's beef critters, and I sure wanted you to make
+the trip. How'd you git along with Jasp?"
+
+"All right," responded Hardy, "he didn't make me any trouble. But I'm
+glad 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 he
+pondered upon the miracle.
+
+"Well, that's what _I_ want to know," he answered ambiguously. "But
+say, you've got a fresh horse; jest take my place here while me and
+Uncle Bill over there show them ignorant punchers how to cut cattle."
+
+He circled rapidly about the herd and, riding out into the runway
+where the cattle were sifted, the beef steers being jumped across the
+open into the hold-up herd and the cows and calves turned back, he
+held up his hand for the work to stop. Then by signals he sent the
+galloping horsemen back to the edge of the herd and beckoned for old
+Bill Johnson.
+
+For a few minutes he sat quietly on his horse, waiting for the
+harassed cattle to stop their milling. Then breaking into a song such
+as cowboys sing at night he rode slowly in among them, threading about
+at random, while old Bill Johnson on his ancient mare did likewise,
+his tangled beard swaying idly in the breeze. On the border of the
+herd they edged in as if by accident upon a fat steer and walked him
+amiably forth into the open. Another followed out of natural
+perversity, and when both were nicely started toward the beef cut the
+two men drifted back once more into the herd. There was no running, no
+shouting, no gallant show of horsemanship, but somehow the right
+steers wandered over into the beef cut and stayed there. As if by
+magic spell the outlaws and "snakes" became good, and with no breaks
+for the hills the labor of an afternoon was accomplished in the space
+of two dull and uneventful hours.
+
+"That's the way to cut cattle!" announced Creede, as they turned the
+discard toward the hills. "Ain't it, Bill?"
+
+He turned to Johnson who, sitting astride a flea-bitten gray mare that
+seemed to be in a perpetual doze, looked more like an Apache squaw
+than a boss cowboy. The old man's clothes were even more ragged than
+when Hardy had seen him at Bender, his copper-riveted hat was further
+reinforced by a buckskin thong around the rim, and his knees were
+short-stirruped almost up to his elbows by the puny little boy's
+saddle that he rode, but his fiery eyes were as quick and piercing as
+ever.
+
+"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, be
+gentle 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 his
+cheek.
+
+"Jeff hyar," he continued, as the bunch of cowboys began to josh
+and laugh among themselves, "he comes by his savvy right--his paw
+was a smart man before him, and mighty clever to his friends, to
+boot. Many's the time I hev took little Jeffie down the river and
+learned him tracks and beaver signs when he wasn't knee-high to a
+grasshopper--hain't I, Jeff? And when I tell him to be gentle with
+them cows he knows I'm right. I jest want you boys to take notice
+when you go down into the Pocket to-morrer what kin be done by
+kindness; and the first man that hollers or puts a rope on my gentle
+stock, 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 the
+first time he saw the face of the new cowboy who had ridden in that
+afternoon. Not since the day he was drunk at Bender had Bill Johnson
+set eyes upon the little man to whom he had sworn off, but he
+recognized 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 glad
+to see you again. Jeff told me he was going down to your ranch
+to-morrow and I looked to see you then."
+
+Bill Johnson allowed this polite speech to pass over his shoulder
+without response. Then, drawing Hardy aside, he began to talk
+confidentially; expounding to the full his system of gentling cattle;
+launching forth his invective, which was of the pioneer variety, upon
+the head of all sheepmen; and finally coming around with a jerk to the
+subject that was uppermost in his mind.
+
+"Say," he said, "I want to ask you a question--are you any relation to
+the Captain Hardy that I served with over at Fort Apache? Seems's if
+you look like 'im, only smaller."
+
+His stature was a sore point with Hardy, and especially in connection
+with his father, but making allowance for Mr. Johnson's ways he
+modestly 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-robber
+of a barkeep--and I was half drunk, too. And so you're the new
+superintendent down at the Dos S, eh? Waal, all I can say is: God help
+them pore sheepmen if you ever git on their trail. I used to chase
+Apaches with yore paw, boy!"
+
+It was Bill Johnson's turn to talk that evening and like most
+solitaries who have not "gone into the silence," he availed himself of
+a listener with enthusiasm.
+
+Stories of lion hunts and "b'ar fights" fell as trippingly from his
+lips as the words of a professional monologist, and when he had
+finished his account of the exploits of Captain Samuel Barrows Hardy,
+even the envious Lightfoot regarded Rufus with a new respect, for
+there is no higher honor in Arizona than to be the son of an Indian
+fighter. And when the last man had crawled wearily into his blankets
+the old hermit still sat by the dying fire poking the charred ends
+into the flames and holding forth to the young superintendent upon the
+courage of his sire.
+
+Hardly had the son of his father crept under the edge of Creede's
+blankets and dropped to sleep before that huge mountain of energy rose
+up and gave the long yell. The morning was at its blackest, that murky
+four A. M. darkness which precedes the first glimmer of light; but
+the day's work had to be done. The shivering horse-wrangler stamped on
+his boots and struck out down the cañon after the _remuda_, two or
+three cooks got busy about the fire which roared higher and higher as
+they piled on the ironwood to make coals, and before the sun had more
+than mounted the southern shoulder of the Four Peaks the long line of
+horsemen was well on the trail to Hell's Hip Pocket.
+
+The frontier imagination had in no wise overleaped itself in naming
+this abyss. Even the tribute which Facilis Descensus Vergil paid to
+the local Roman hell could hardly be said of the Pocket--it is not
+even easy to get into it. From the top of the divide it looks like a
+valley submerged in a smoky haze through which the peaks and pinnacles
+of the lower parks rise up like cathedral spires, pointing solemnly to
+heaven. As the trail descends through washed-out gulches and
+"stone-patches," now skating along the backbone of a ridge and now
+dropping as abruptly into some hollow waterway, the cliffs and
+pinnacles begin to loom up against the sky; then they seem to close in
+and block the way, and just as the cañon boxes in to nothing the trail
+slips into a gash in the face of the cliff where the soft sandstone
+has crumbled away between two harder strata, and climbs precariously
+along through the sombre gloom of the gorge to the bright light of the
+fair valley beyond.
+
+It is a kind of fairy land, that hidden pocket in the hills, always
+covered by a mystic haze, for which the Mexicans give it the name
+_Humada_. Its steep cañon comes down from the breast of the most
+easterly of the Four Peaks, impassable except by the one trail; it
+passes through the box and there widens out into a beautiful valley,
+where the grass lies along the hillsides like the tawny mane of a
+lion, and tender flowers stand untrampled in the rich bottoms. For
+three miles or more it spreads out between striated cliffs where hawks
+and eagles make their nests; then once more it closes in, the creek
+plunges down a narrow gorge and disappears, writhing tortuously on its
+way to the Salagua whose fire-blasted walls rise in huge bulwarks
+against the south, dwarfing the near-by cliffs into nothingness by
+their majestic height.
+
+In the presence of this unearthly beauty and grandeur old Bill
+Johnson--ex-trapper, ex-soldier, ex-prospector, ex-everything--had
+dwelt for twenty years, dating from the days when his house was his
+fortress, and his one desire was to stand off the Apaches until he
+could find the Lost Dutchman.
+
+Where the valley narrowed down for its final plunge into the gorge the
+old trapper had built his cabin, its walls laid "square with the
+world" by sighting on the North Star. When the sun entered the
+threshold of the western door it was noon, and his watch never ran
+down. The cabin was built of shaly rocks, squared and laid in mud,
+like bricks; a tremendous stone chimney stood against the north end
+and a corral for his burros at the south. Three hounds with bleared
+eyes and flapping ears, their foreheads wrinkled with age and the
+anxieties of the hunt, bayed forth a welcome as the cavalcade strung
+in across the valley; and mild-eyed cattle, standing on the ridges to
+catch the wind, stared down at them in surprise. Never, even at San
+Carlos, where the Chiricahua cattle fatten on the best feed in
+Arizona, had Hardy seen such mountains of beef. Old steers with six
+and seven rings on their horns hung about the salting places, as if
+there were no such things as beef drives and slaughter houses in this
+cruel world, and even when the cowboys spread out like a fan and
+brought them all in to the cutting grounds there was hardly a calf
+that bawled.
+
+As the three or four hundred head that made up his entire earthly
+possession drifted obediently in, the old man rode up to Creede and
+Hardy and waved his hand expansively.
+
+"Thar, boys," he said, "thar's the results of peace and kindness. Nary
+a critter thar that I heven't scratched between the horns since the
+day his maw brought him down to the salt lick. I even git Jeff and
+the boys to brand and earmark 'em fer me, so they won't hev no hard
+feelin' fer the Old Man. D'ye see that big white-faced steer?" he
+asked, pointing with pride to the monarch of the herd. "Waal, how much
+ye think he'll weigh?" he demanded, turning to Creede. "Fifteen
+hundred?"
+
+"Um, more 'n that," responded Creede, squinting his eyes down
+judicially. "Them Herefords are awful solid when they git big. I
+reckon he'll run nigh onto seventeen hundred, Bill." He paused and
+winked 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 more
+weight 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 that
+steer alone. I'll jest cut this herd to suit myself."
+
+Over at the branding pen the irons were on the fire and the marking
+was progressing rapidly, but out in the open Mr. Bill Johnson was
+making slow work of his cut.
+
+"He gets stuck on them cows, like an Irishman with his pig," observed
+Creede, as the old man turned back a prime four-year-old. "He'd rather
+be 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 buy
+doggies; but Bill spends all the money he gits fer booze anyhow, so I
+reckon it's all right. He generally sends out about twenty runts and
+roughs, 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 'em
+along. And the fust one of you punchers that hits one of them critters
+over the tail with his hondu," he shouted, as the eager horsemen
+trotted over to start them, "will hev me to lick!"
+
+He placed an order for provisions with Creede, asked him to keep the
+supplies 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 their
+offsprings' mangled ears and mooed resentfully, but the big
+white-faced steer stood in brutish content on the salting grounds and
+gazed after the town herd thoughtfully.
+
+A bunch of burros gathered about the doorway of the cabin, snooping
+for bacon rinds; the hounds leaned their heavy jowls upon his knees
+and gazed up worshipfully into their master's face; and as the sun
+dipped down toward the rim of the mighty cliffs that shut him in, the
+lord 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 of
+at Moroni, and the checks sent on to the absentee owner, who did not
+know a steer from a stag; the _rodéo_ hands were paid off and
+successfully launched upon their big drunk; bills were paid and the
+Summer'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 had
+quietly taken to water, and he planted a bag of his accumulated wages
+in 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" from
+Black 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 partners
+swept the floor, cleaned up the cooking dishes, farmed out their
+laundry to a squaw, and set their house in order generally. They were
+just greasing up their _reatas_ for a run after the wild horses of
+Bronco Mesa when Rafael pulled in with a wagon-load of supplies and
+destroyed their peaceful life.
+
+It was late when the grinding and hammering of wheels upon the
+boulders of the creek-bed announced his near approach and Creede went
+out to help unload the provisions. A few minutes later he stepped into
+the room where Hardy was busily cooking and stood across the table
+from 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, but
+he 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 the
+slightest quaver, but the little man seemed suddenly to have forgotten
+him; he moved about absently, mechanically, dropping nothing, burning
+nothing, yet far away, as in a dream.
+
+"Huh!" exclaimed Creede, disgusted with his own make-believe, "you
+don't seem to care whether school keeps or not. I'll excuse you from
+any further work this evenin'--here's your mail."
+
+He drew a bundle of letters from behind his back and dropped it
+heavily upon the table, but even then Hardy did not rise.
+
+"Guess the Old Man must've forwarded my mail," he remarked, smiling at
+the size of the pack. "I've been knocking around so, I haven't
+received a letter in a year. Chuck 'em on my desk, will ye?"
+
+"Sure," responded Creede, and stepping across the broad living-room he
+threw the bundle carelessly on the bed.
+
+"You're like me," he remarked, drawing his chair up sociably to
+supper, "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 a
+fine burg. Think I'll save up my _dinero_ and try it a whirl some
+day."
+
+The supper table was cleared and Creede had lit his second cigarette
+before Hardy reverted to the matter of his mail.
+
+"Well," he said, "I might as well look over those letters--may be a
+thousand-dollar check amongst them."
+
+Then, stepping into his room, he picked up the package, examined it
+curiously, and cut the cords with his knife.
+
+A sheaf of twenty or more letters spilled out and, sitting on the edge
+of 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 the
+last he quietly tucked three of them beneath the folds of his
+blankets--two in the same hand, bold and dashing yet stamped with a
+certain feminine delicacy and grace, and each envelope of a pale blue;
+the third also feminine, but inscribed in black and white, a crooked
+little hand that strayed across the page, yet modestly shrank from
+trespassing 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 of
+the lamp.
+
+"There," he said, as Creede blinked at the heap, "I reckon that's mail
+enough for both of us. You can read the advertisements and I'll see
+what the judge has to say for himself. Pitch in, now." He waved his
+hand towards a lot of business envelopes, but Creede shook his head
+and continued to smoke dreamily.
+
+"Nope," he said briefly, "don't interest me."
+
+He reached out and thumbed the letters over dumbly, spelling out a
+long word here and there or scrutinizing some obscure handwriting
+curiously, 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 rapidly
+through 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 tells
+the whole story as you go along. After you've been down here in
+Arizona a few seasons and got them big eyes of yourn squinched down a
+little--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, fat
+fellows get so self-satisfied sometimes that you let lots of things go
+by you."
+
+"Well, I'll take my chances on you," answered Creede placidly. "What
+did the old judge say?"
+
+"He says you did fine with the cattle," said Hardy, "and sold 'em just
+in time--the market fell off within a week after we shipped."
+
+"Um-huh," grunted Creede. "And what's the bad bunch of news at the
+end?"
+
+The bad bunch of news was really of a personal nature, stirring up
+unpleasant memories, but Hardy passed it off by a little benevolent
+dissimulation.
+
+"He says he's mighty glad I steered the sheep away, but there is
+something funny going on back in Washington; some combine of the sheep
+and lumber interests has got in and blocked the whole Forest Reserve
+business and there won't be any Salagua Forest Reserve this year. So I
+guess my job of sheep-wrangler is going to hold; at least the judge
+asked me to stay with it until Fall."
+
+"Well, you stay then, Rufe," said Creede earnestly, "because
+I've kinder got stuck on you--I like your style," he added half
+apologetically.
+
+"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 a
+quaver.
+
+"You and the Old Man have had a fallin'-out," observed Creede, with a
+shrewd 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 you
+much about my father, did I?"
+
+"Never knew you had one," said Creede, "until Bill Johnson began to
+blow about what an Injun-fighter he was. I reckon that's where you git
+your sportin' blood, ain't it?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell you," began Hardy. "The Old Man and I never did get
+along together. He's used to commanding soldiers and all that, and I'm
+kind of quiet, but he always took a sneaking pride in me when I was a
+boy, I guess. Anyway, every time I'd get into a fight around the post
+and lick two or three Mexican kids, or do some good work riding or
+shooting, he'd say I'd be a man before my mother, or something like
+that--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 a
+colonel, and I can see now he was lotting on my doing as well or
+better--but hell, that only made matters worse."
+
+He slid down in his chair and gazed into the fire gloomily. It was the
+first time Creede had heard his partner use even the mildest of the
+range expletives, for in that particular he was still a tenderfoot,
+and the word suddenly conveyed to him the depths of the little man's
+abandonment and despair.
+
+"Why--what was the matter?" he inquired sympathetically. "Couldn't you
+git no appointment?"
+
+"Huh!" growled Hardy. "I guess you know, all right. Look at me!" he
+exclaimed, 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 I
+stopped growing! Well, he hasn't had a bit of use for me since. That's
+the size of it. And he didn't take any pains to conceal the fact--most
+army men don't. There's only one man in the world to them, and that's
+a soldier; and if you're not a soldier, you're nothing."
+
+He waved a hand as if dismissing himself from the universe, and sank
+moodily into his seat, while Creede looked him over in silence.
+
+"Rufe," he said quietly, "d'ye remember that time when I picked you to
+be boss sheep-wrangler, down at Bender? Well, I might as well tell you
+about that now--'t won't do no harm. The old judge couldn't figure out
+what it was I see in you to recommend you for the job. Like's not you
+don't know yourself. _He_ thought I was pickin' you because you was a
+peaceful guy, and wouldn't fight Black Tex; but that's where he got
+fooled, 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 fierce
+light.
+
+"D'ye think I want some little suckin' mamma's-joy of a diplomat on my
+hands 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 continued
+apologetically, "if I didn't see you so kinder down in the mouth about
+your old man. But I jest want you to know that they's one man that
+appreciates 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 a
+six-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 every
+turn; 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 here
+letter?"
+
+He picked one up at random, and Hardy ascertained that his tailor some
+six months previously had moved to a new and more central location,
+where he would be pleased to welcome all his old customers. But the
+subject of diminutive size was effectually dismissed and, having
+cheered up his little friend as best he could, Creede seized the
+occasion to retire. Lying upon his broad back in his blankets, with
+Tommy purring comfortably in the hollow of his arm, he smoked out his
+cigarette in speculative silence, gazing up at the familiar stars
+whose wheelings mark off the cowboy's night, and then dropped quietly
+to sleep, leaving his partner to brood over his letters alone.
+
+For a long time he sat there, opening them one by one--the vague and
+indifferent letters which drift in while one is gone; and at last he
+stole silently across the dirt floor and brought out the three letters
+from his bed. There in a moment, if he had been present, Creede might
+have read him like a book; his lips drawn tight, his eyes big and
+staring, as he tore open one of the pale blue envelopes with trembling
+hands. The fragments of a violet, shattered by the long journey, fell
+before him as he plucked out the note, and its delicate fragrance rose
+up like incense as he read. He hurried through the missive, as if
+seeking something which was not there, then his hungry eyes left the
+unprofitable page and wandered about the empty room, only to come back
+to 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 lapsed
+into dreams; then, reaching out, he picked up the second letter,
+postmarked over a year before, and examined it idly. The very hour of
+its collection was recorded--"Ferry Sta. 1.30 A. M."--and the date he
+could never forget. Written on that very same day, and yet its message
+had never reached him!
+
+He could see as in a vision the shrouded form of Kitty Bonnair
+slipping from her door at midnight to fling a final word after him,
+not knowing how far he would flee; he could see the lonely mail
+collector, half obscured in the San Francisco fog, as he scooped the
+letter from the box with many others and boarded the car for the
+ferry. It was a last retort, and likely bitter, for he had spoken in
+anger himself, and Kitty was not a woman to be denied. There was an
+exaggerated quirk to the square corners of her letters, a brusque
+shading of the down strokes--undoubtedly Kitty was angry. But for once
+he had disarmed her--it was a year after, now, and he had read her
+forgiveness first! Yet it was with a strange sinking of the heart that
+he opened the blue envelope and stared at the scribbled words:
+
+DEAR FRIEND THAT WAS: My heart is very sore to-night--I had trusted
+you so--I had depended upon you so--and now you have deliberately
+broken all your faith and promises. Rufus, I had thought you
+different from other men--more gentle, more considerate, more capable
+of a true friendship which I fondly hoped would last forever--but now,
+oh, I can never forgive you! Just when life was heaviest with
+disappointments, just when I was leaning upon you most as a true
+friend and comrade--then you must needs spoil it all. And after I had
+told you I could never love any one! Have you forgotten all that I
+told you in the balcony? Have you forgotten all that I have risked for
+the friendship I held so dear? And then to spoil it all! Oh, I hate
+you--I hate you!
+
+He stopped and stiffened in his chair, and his eyes turned wild with
+horror; then he gathered his letters together blindly and crept away
+to bed. In the morning he arose and went about his work with
+mouse-like quietness, performing all things thoroughly and well,
+talking, even laughing, yet with a droop like that of a wounded
+creature that seeks only to hide and escape.
+
+Creede watched him furtively, hung around the house for a while, then
+strode 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 instincts
+and intuitions, and they are even willing to leave alone that which
+they cannot remedy and do not understand.
+
+As Creede galloped off, leaving the ranch of a sudden lonely and
+quiet, Tommy poked his head anxiously out through a slit in the canvas
+bottom 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 master
+until at last Hardy gathered him up and held him to his breast.
+
+"Ah, Kitty, Kitty," he said, and at the caressing note in his voice
+the black cat began to purr hoarsely, raising his scrawny head in the
+ecstasy of being loved. Thief and reprobate though he was, and sadly
+given to leaping upon the table and flying spitefully at dogs, even
+that rough creature felt the need of love; how much more the
+sensitive and high-bred man, once poet and scholar, now cowboy and
+sheep-wrangler, but always the unhappy slave of Kitty Bonnair.
+
+The two letters lay charred to ashes among the glowing coals, but
+their 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 the
+iron-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, and
+thrust the sealed envelope into an inner pocket. Then for the first
+time, he drew out the third letter and spread its pages before him--a
+long letter, full of news, yet asking no questions. The tense lines
+about his lips relaxed as he read, he smiled whimsically as he heard
+of the queer doings of his old-time friends; how these two had run
+away and got married in order to escape a church wedding, how Tupper
+Browne had painted a likeness of Mather in Hades--after the "Dante" of
+Doré--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 she
+doesn't get married." Then, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper, he
+began to write, describing the beauty of the country; the noble
+qualities of his horse, Chapuli, the Grasshopper; the march of the
+vast army of sheep; Creede, Tommy, and whatnot, with all the pent-up
+enthusiasm of a year's loneliness. When it was ended he looked at the
+letter with a smile, wondering whether to send it by freight or
+express. Six cents in stamps was the final solution of the problem,
+and as his pocketbook contained only four he stuck them on and awaited
+his partner's return.
+
+"Say, Jeff," he called, as Creede came in from the pasture, "have you
+got 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 important
+business in the States. No, I'll tell you. The only stamp I've got is
+in 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 the
+parler--jest above the pianney--and a jim-dandy piece of steel
+engraving she is, too." He grinned broadly as he concluded this
+running 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 forty
+miles, isn't it?" And early in the morning, true to his word, he
+saddled up Chapuli and struck out down the river.
+
+From the doorway Creede watched him curiously, his lips parted in a
+dubious 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 stooped
+and scooped up Tommy in one giant paw. "Well, Tom, Old Socks," he
+said, 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 a
+rat?" But even Tommy could not explain why a man should ride forty
+miles in order to buy a stamp.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER IX
+
+MORONI
+
+
+The Mormon settlement of Moroni proved to belong to that large class
+of Western "cities" known as "string-towns"--a long line of stores on
+either side of a main street, brick where fires have swept away the
+shacks, and wood with false fronts where dynamite or a change of wind
+has checked the conflagration; a miscellaneous conglomeration of
+saloons, restaurants, general stores, and livery stables, all very
+satisfying to the material wants of man, but in the ensemble not
+over-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 the
+railroad. A second glance, however, disclosed a smaller number of
+disconsolate cow ponies standing in front of the saloons and a larger
+number of family rigs tied to the horse rack in front of Swope's
+Store; there was also a tithing house with many doors, a brick church,
+and women and children galore. And for twenty miles around there was
+nothing but flowing canals and irrigated fields waving with wheat and
+alfalfa, all so green and prosperous that a stranger from the back
+country was likely to develop a strong leaning toward the faith before
+he reached town and noticed the tithing house.
+
+As for Hardy, his eyes, so long accustomed to the green lawns and
+trees of Berkeley, turned almost wistful as he gazed away across the
+rich fields, dotted with cocks of hay or resounding to the whirr of
+the mower; but for the sweating Latter Day Saints who labored in the
+fields, he had nothing but the pitying contempt of the cowboy. It was
+a fine large country, to be sure, and produced a lot of very necessary
+horse feed, but Chapuli shied when his feet struck the freshly
+sprinkled street, and somehow his master felt equally ill at ease.
+
+Having purchased his stamp and eaten supper, he was wandering
+aimlessly up and down the street--that being the only pleasure and
+recourse of an Arizona town outside the doors of a saloon--when in the
+medley of heterogeneous sounds he heard a familiar voice boom out and
+as abruptly stop. It was evening and the stores were closed, but
+various citizens still sat along the edge of the sidewalk, smoking and
+talking in the semi-darkness. Hardy paused and listened a moment. The
+voice which he had heard was that of no ordinary man; it was deep and
+resonant, with a rough, overbearing note almost military in its
+brusqueness; but it had ceased and another voice, low and protesting,
+had taken its place. In the gloom he could just make out the forms of
+the two men, sitting on their heels against the wall and engaged in a
+one-sided argument. The man with the Southern drawl was doing all the
+talking, but as Hardy passed by, the other cut in on him again.
+
+"Well," he demanded in masterful tones, "what ye goin' to do about
+it?" 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're
+you doing in these parts?"
+
+"Came down to buy a postage stamp," replied Hardy, following a habit
+he had of telling the truth in details.
+
+"Huh!" grunted Swope. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go to Bender for
+it--that Jew over there might make you a rate!"
+
+"Nope," responded Hardy, ignoring the too-evident desire of the Moroni
+storekeeper to draw him into an argument. "He couldn't do it--they say
+the Government loses money every time it sells one. Nice town you've
+got down here," he remarked, by way of a parting compliment; but
+Swope was not satisfied to let him escape so easily.
+
+"Hold on, there!" he exclaimed, rousing up from his place. "What's
+your bloody hurry? Come on back here and shake hands with Mr.
+Thomas--Mr. Thomas is my boss herder up in Apache County. Thinking of
+bringing him down here next Fall," he added laconically, and by the
+subtle change in his voice Hardy realized intuitively that that move
+had been the subject of their interrupted argument. More than that, he
+felt vaguely that he himself was somehow involved in the discussion,
+the more so as Mr. Thomas balked absolutely at shaking hands with
+him.
+
+"I hope Mr. Thomas will find it convenient to stop at the ranch," he
+murmured pleasantly, "but don't let me interfere with your business."
+
+"Well, I guess that's all to-night, Shep," remarked Swope, taking
+charge of the situation. "I jest wanted you to meet Hardy while you
+was together. This is the Mr. Hardy, of the Dos S outfit, you
+understand," he continued, "and a white cowman! If you have to go
+across his range, go quick--and tell your men the same. I want them
+dam' tail-twisters up in that Four Peaks country to know that it pays
+to 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 your
+range, Mr. Hardy," he added reassuringly, "you jest order 'em off, and
+Mr. Thomas here will see to it that they go!"
+
+He turned upon his boss herder with a menacing gesture, as if charging
+him with silence, and Thomas, whose sole contribution to the
+conversation had been a grunt at the end, swung about and ambled
+sullenly 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 you
+remember what I said about them sheep. How do things look up your
+way?" he inquired. "Feed pretty good?"
+
+"It's getting awfully dry," replied Hardy noncommittally. "I suppose
+your sheep are up on the Black Mesa by this time."
+
+"Ump!" responded the sheepman, and then there was a long pause. "Sit
+down," he said at last, squatting upon the edge of the sidewalk, "I
+want 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 you
+might 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 Yuma
+some day, I reckon. His old man was the same way. So you ain't no kin
+to 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 fired
+to-morrow. It's a good place, though."
+
+"Not the only one, though," suggested the sheepman shrewdly, "not by a
+dam' sight! Ever investigate the sheep business? No? Then you've
+overlooked something! I've lived in this country for nigh onto twenty
+years, and followed most every line of business, but I didn't make my
+pile punching cows, nor running a store, neither--I made it _raising
+sheep_. 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 thousand
+head, 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 did
+you ever sit down and figure out a hundred per cent a year? Well, five
+thousand 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 three
+years. That's quite a jag of money, eh? I won't say what it would be
+in three years more, but here's the point. You're a young man and out
+to make a stake, I suppose, like the rest of 'em. What's the use of
+wasting your time and energy trying to hold that bunch of half-starved
+cows 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, the
+sheep business is the coming industry of Arizona. The sheepmen are
+going to own this country, from Flag to the Mexican line, and you
+might 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 reached
+out and tapped his listener confidentially on the knee.
+
+"Hardy," he said, "I like your style. You've got a head, and you know
+how to keep your mouth shut. More'n that, you don't drink. A man like
+you could git to be a boss sheep-herder in six months; you could make
+a small fortune in three years and never know you was workin'. You
+don't need to work, boy; I kin git a hundred men to work--what I want
+is a man that can _think_. Now, say, I'm goin' to need a man pretty
+soon--come around and see me some time."
+
+"All right," said Hardy, reluctantly, "but I might as well tell you
+now that I'm satisfied where I am."
+
+"Satisfied!" ripped out Swope, with an oath. "Satisfied! Why, man
+alive, you're jest hanging on by your eyebrows up there at Hidden
+Water! _You_ haven't got nothin'; you don't even own the house you
+live in. I could go up there to-morrow and file on that land and you
+couldn't do a dam' thing. Judge Ware thought he was pretty smooth when
+he euchred me out of that place, but I want to tell you, boy--and you
+can tell him, if you want to--that Old Man Winship never held no title
+to that place, and it's public land to-day. That's all public land up
+there; there ain't a foot of land in the Four Peaks country that I
+can'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 Hardy
+tapped his boot meditatively. "Well," he said at last, "if that's the
+way things are, I'm much obliged to you for not sheeping us out this
+Spring. Of course, I haven't been in the country long, and I don't
+know much about these matters, but I tried to accommodate you all I
+could, thinking--"
+
+"That ain't the point," broke in Swope, smoking fiercely, "I ain't
+threatening ye, and I appreciate your hospitality--but here's the
+point. What's the use of your monkeying along up there on a job that
+is sure to play out, when you can go into a better business? Answer me
+that, now!"
+
+But Hardy only meditated in silence. It was beyond contemplation that
+he should hire himself out as a sheep-herder, but if he said so
+frankly it might call down the wrath of Jim Swope upon both him and
+the 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, they
+might 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 figure
+that out for yourself. But I'd jest like to ask you a question, since
+you're so smart; how come all us sheepmen kept off your upper range
+this year?"
+
+"Why," said Hardy innocently, "I tried to be friendly and treated you
+as white as I could, and I suppose--"
+
+"Yes, you suppose," sneered Swope grimly, "but I'll jest tell you; we
+wanted 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. But
+now the question is: What ye goin' to do about it?"
+
+"Why, in what way?"
+
+"Well, now," began Swope, patiently feeling his way, "suppose, jest
+for instance, that some fool Mexican herder should accidentally get in
+on your upper range--would you feel it your duty to put him off?"
+
+"Well," said Hardy, hedging, "I really hadn't considered the matter
+seriously. Of course, if Judge Ware--"
+
+"The judge is in San Francisco," put in Swope curtly. "Now, suppose
+that _all_ of us sheepmen should decide that we wanted some of that
+good feed up on Bronco Mesa, and, suppose, furthermore, that we should
+all go up there, as we have a perfect legal right to do, what would
+you do?"
+
+"I don't know," replied Hardy politely.
+
+"Well, supposen I dropped a stick of dynamite under you," burst out
+Swope hoarsely, "would you jump? Speak up, man, you know what I'm
+talking about. You don't think you can stand off the whole Sheepmen's
+Protective Association, do you? Well, then, will ye abide by the law
+and give us our legal rights or will ye fight like a dam' fool and git
+sent to Yuma for your pains? That's what I want to know, and when you
+talk to me you talk to the whole Sheepmen's Association, with money
+enough in its treasury to send up every cowman in the Four Peaks
+country! 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 ominously
+on 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't
+what I started to talk about. I want to speak with you, Mr. Hardy, on
+a matter of business. You jest think them things over until I see you
+again--and, of course, all this is on the q. t. But now let's talk
+business. When you want to buy a postage stamp you come down here to
+Moroni, don't you? And why? Why, because it's near, sure! But when you
+want a wagon-load of grub--and there ain't no one sells provisions
+cheaper than I do, beans four-fifty, bacon sixteen cents, flour a
+dollar-ninety, everything as reasonable--you haul it clean across the
+desert from Bender. That easy adds a cent a pound on every ton you
+pull, to say nothin' of the time. Well, what I want to know is this:
+Does Einstein sell you grub that much cheaper? Take flour, for
+instance--what does that cost you?"
+
+"I don't know," answered Hardy, whose anger was rising under
+this unwarranted commercial badgering. "Same as with you, I
+suppose--dollar-ninety."
+
+"Ah!" exclaimed Swope triumphantly, "and the extra freight on a sack
+would be fifty cents, wouldn't it--a cent a pound, and a fifty-pound
+sack! Well, now say, Hardy, we're good friends, you know, and all
+that--and Jasp and me steered all them sheep around you, you
+recollect--what's the matter with your buying your summer supplies off
+of me? I'll guarantee to meet any price that Bender Sheeny can
+make--and, of course, I'll do what's right by you--but, by Joe, I
+think you owe it to me!"
+
+He paused and waited impatiently for his answer, but once more Hardy
+balked him.
+
+"I don't doubt there's a good deal in what you say, Mr. Swope," he
+said, not without a certain weariness, "but you'll have to take that
+matter up with Judge Ware."
+
+"Don't you have the ordering of the supplies?" demanded Swope
+sharply.
+
+"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 between
+him and Judge Ware."
+
+"Well, your credit is good here, too," replied Swope acidly, "but I
+see you'd rather trade with a Jew than stand in with your friends, any
+day."
+
+"I tell you I haven't got a thing to do with it," replied Hardy
+warmly. "I take my orders from Judge Ware, and if he tells me to trade
+here I'll be glad to do so--it'll save me two days' freighting--but
+I'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 they
+had been accommodated, would take a little trouble, but I notice you
+ain'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 much
+for you about that job of yourn."
+
+"Well, you must think I'm stuck on that job," cried Hardy hotly, "the
+way you talk about it! You seem to have an idea that if I get let out
+it'll make some difference to me, but I might as well tell you right
+now, Mr. Swope, that it won't. I've got a good horse and I've got
+money to travel on, and I'm just holding this job to accommodate Judge
+Ware. So if you have any idea of taking it out on him you can just say
+the word and I'll quit!"
+
+"Um-m!" muttered the sheepman, taken aback by this sudden burst of
+temper, "you're a hot-headed boy, ain't you?" He surveyed him
+critically in the half light, as if appraising his value as a fighter,
+and then proceeded in a more conciliatory manner. "But you mustn't let
+your temper git away with you like that," he said. "You're likely to
+say 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 the
+only 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 the
+whole country, and all that. Now I'd like to ask you whether in your
+opinion 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 whole
+country, from Flag to the line; then you ask me what I'd do if a
+Mexican came in on us; then you say you can sheep us out any time you
+want to, and what am I going to do about it! Is that the way you talk
+to a man who has done his best to be your friend?"
+
+"I never said we was going to sheep you out," retorted the sheepman
+sullenly. "And if I'd 'a' thought for a minute you would take on like
+this 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 and
+strong, all right. And when a man comes as near to it as you have I
+think I've got a right to ask him straight out what his intentions
+are. Now how about it--are you going to sheep us out next Fall or are
+you going to give us a chance?"
+
+"Oh hell!" burst out Swope, in a mock fury, "I'm never going to talk
+to _you_ any more! You're crazy, man! _I_ never said I was going to
+sheep 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 I
+introduce 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 to
+his feet, cursing.
+
+"Well, you can jest politely go to hell," he said, with venomous
+deliberation, and racked off down the street.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER X
+
+"FEED MY SHEEP"
+
+
+The slow, monotonous days of Summer crept listlessly by like dreams
+which, 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 and
+swim in a radiance of its own; at evening the sun set in a glory
+incomparable; and at dawn it returned to its own. Then in the long
+breathless hours the cows sought out the scanty shadow of the cañon
+wall, sprawling uneasily in the sand; the lizards crept far back into
+the crevices of the rocks; the birds lingered about the water holes,
+throttling their tongues, and all the world took on a silence that was
+almost akin to death. As the Summer rose to its climax a hot wind
+breathed in from the desert, clean and pure, but withering in its
+intensity; the great bowlders, superheated in the glare of day,
+irradiated the stored-up energy of the sun by night until even the
+rattlesnakes, their tough hides scorched through by the burning sands,
+sought out their winter dens to wait for a touch of frost. There was
+only one creature in all that heat-smitten land that defied the sway
+of the Sun-God and went his way unheeding--man, the indomitable, the
+conqueror of mountains and desert and sea.
+
+When the sun was hottest, then was the best time to pursue the black
+stallion of Bronco Mesa, chasing him by circuitous ways to the river
+where he and his band could drink. But though more than one fine mare
+and 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 and
+steadfastness rare even among men to sell his liberty at any price. In
+the round corral at Hidden Water there was roping and riding as Creede
+and Hardy gentled their prizes; in the cool evenings they rode forth
+along the Alamo, counting the cows as they came down to water or
+doctoring any that were sick; and at night they lay on their cots
+beneath the _ramada_ telling long stories till they fell asleep.
+
+At intervals of a month or more Hardy rode down to Moroni and
+each time he brought back some book of poems, or a novel, or a
+bundle of magazines; but if he received any letters he never
+mentioned it. Sometimes he read in the shade, his face sobered to a
+scholarly repose, and when the mood came and he was alone he
+wrote verses--crude, feverish, unfinished--and destroyed them,
+furtively.
+
+He bore his full share of the rough work, whether riding or
+horse-breaking or building brush corrals, but while he responded to
+every mood of his changeable companion he hid the whirl of emotion
+which possessed him, guarding the secret of his heart even when
+writing to Lucy Ware; and slowly, as the months crept by, the wound
+healed over and left him whole.
+
+At last the days grew shorter, the chill came back into the morning
+air, and the great thunder-caps which all Summer had mantled the
+Peaks, scattering precarious and insufficient showers across the
+parching lowlands, faded away before the fresh breeze from the coast.
+Autumn had come, and, though the feed was scant, Creede started his
+round-up early, to finish ahead of the sheep. Out on The Rolls the
+wild and runty cows were hiding their newborn calves; the spring twos
+were grown to the raw-boned dignity of steers; and all must be
+gathered quickly, before the dust arose in the north and the sheep
+mowed down the summer grass. Once more from their distant ranches the
+mountain men trailed in behind their horses; the _rodéo_ hands dropped
+in from nowhere, mysteriously, talking loudly of high adventures but
+with the indisputable marks of Mormon hay-forks on their thumbs.
+
+Before their restless energy The Rolls were swept bare of market
+stock, and the upper end of the mesa as well, before the first sheep
+dust showed against the hills. The _rodéo_ outfit left Carrizo and
+came down to Hidden Water, driving their herd before them, and still
+no sheep appeared. So long had they strained their eyes for nothing
+that the cowmen from the north became uneasy, dropping out one by one
+to return to their ranches for fear that the sheep had crept in and
+laid waste their pastures and corrals. Yet the round-up ended without
+a band in sight, where before The Rolls had been ploughed into
+channels by their multitude of feet.
+
+In a slow fever of apprehension Hardy rode ceaselessly along the rim
+of Bronco Mesa, without finding so much as a track. Throughout that
+long month of watching and waiting the memory of his conversation with
+Jim Swope had haunted him, and with a sinister boding of impending
+evil he had ridden far afield, even to the lower crossing at Pablo
+Moreno's, where a few Mexicans and Basques were fording the shallow
+river. Not one of those veiled threats and intimations had he confided
+to Creede, for the orders from Judge Ware had been for peace and Jeff
+was hot-headed and hasty; but in his own mind Hardy pictured a solid
+phalanx of sheep, led by Jasp Swope and his gun-fighting Chihuahuanos,
+drifting relentlessly in over the unravaged mesa. Even that he could
+endure, trusting to some appeal or protest to save him from the
+ultimate disaster, but the strain of this ominous waiting was more
+than Hardy's nerves could stand.
+
+As the town herd was put on the long trail for Bender and the round-up
+hands began to spit dry for their first drink, the premonition of evil
+conquered him and he beckoned Creede back out of the rout.
+
+"I've got a hunch," he said, "that these sheepmen are hanging back
+until 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 does
+it look to you?"
+
+"Well," answered Creede sombrely, "I don't mind tellin' you that this
+is a new one on me. It's the first fall gather that I can remember
+when 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 grass
+everywhere, but when they come back over The Rolls in the Fall and see
+what they've done to the feed--well, it's like fightin' crows out of a
+watermelon patch to protect that upper range.
+
+"The only thing I can think of is they may be held back by this dry
+weather. But, I tell you, Rufe," he added, "it's jest as well I'm
+goin'--one man can tell 'em to he'p themselves as good as two, and I
+might 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 up
+here, tryin' to appeal to Jasp Swope's better nature." He twisted his
+lips, and shrugged his huge shoulders contemptuously. Then without
+enthusiasm he said: "Well, good luck," and rode away after his
+cattle.
+
+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 the
+boss. But those same orders, if they ever became known, would call in
+the rapacious sheepmen like vultures to a feast, and the bones of his
+cattle--that last sorry remnant of his father's herds--would bleach on
+Bronco 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 of
+the Juate and looked over the divide to the north, and still there
+were no sheep. Not a smoke, not a dust streak, although the chill of
+Autumn was in the air. In the distant Sierra Blancas the snow was
+already on the peaks and the frosts lay heavy upon the black mesa of
+the Mogollons. Where then could the sheep be, the tender, gently
+nurtured sheep, which could stand neither heat in Summer nor cold in
+Winter, but must always travel, travel, feeding upon the freshest of
+green grass and leaving a desert in their wake? The slow-witted
+Mexicans and Basques, who did not follow the lead of the Swopes, had
+returned on their fall migration with the regularity of animals, but
+all those cheery herders for whom he had cooked and slaved--Bazan,
+McDonald, the Swopes and their kin, who used the upper ford--were lost
+as if the earth had swallowed them up.
+
+The stars were shining when Hardy came in sight of the ranch at the
+end of that unprofitable day, and he was tired. The low roof of the
+house rose up gloomily before him, but while he was riding in a hound
+suddenly raised his challenge in the darkness. Instantly his yell was
+answered by a chorus, and as Chapuli swerved from the rush of the pack
+the door was thrown open and the tall, gaunt form of Bill Johnson
+stood 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 circled
+about and returned to the feet of their master, wagging their tails
+but not abating their barking one whit. Standing bareheaded in the
+doorway with his hair and beard bushed out like a lion's mane Johnson
+strove by kicks and curses to quiet their uproar, shouting again and
+again some words which Hardy could not catch.
+
+At last, grabbing old Suke, the leader of the pack, by an ear, he
+slapped her until her yelpings silenced the rest; then, stepping out
+into 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? I
+just 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! My
+hounds took after a lion last night, and this mornin' I trailed 'em
+clean over into the middle fork where they had 'im treed. He jumped
+down and run when I come up and jist as we was hotfoot after him we
+run spang into three thousand head of sheep, drifting down from the
+pass, and six greasers and a white man in the rear with carbeens. The
+whole dam' outfit is comin' in on us. But we can turn 'em yet! Whar's
+Jeff and the boys?"
+
+"They've gone to town with the cattle."
+
+"Well, you're dished then," said the old man grimly. "Might as well
+put up your horse and eat--I'm goin' home and see that they don't none
+of 'em git in on me!"
+
+"Whose sheep were they?" inquired Hardy, as he sat down to a hasty
+meal.
+
+"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 and
+forth. 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 told
+him furthermore that the first sheep or sheepman that p'inted his head
+down the Pocket trail would stop lead; and every one tharafter, as
+long as I could draw a bead. And by Gawd, I mean it!" He struck his
+gnarled fist upon the table till every tin plate jumped, and his fiery
+eyes burned savagely as he paced about the room.
+
+At first peep of dawn Bill Johnson was in the saddle, his long-barrelled
+revolver thrust pugnaciously into his boot, his 30-30 carbine across his
+arm, and his hounds slouching dutifully along in the rear. Close
+behind followed Hardy, bound for the Peaks, but though the morning was
+cold he had stripped off his coat and shaps, and everything which
+might conceal a weapon, leaving even his polished Colt's in his
+blankets. If the sheep were to be turned now it could never be by
+arms. The sheepmen had stolen a march, Creede and his cowboys were far
+away, and his only hope was the olive branch of peace. Yet as he
+spurred up the Carrizo trail he felt helpless and abused, like a
+tried soldier who is sent out unarmed by a humanitarian commander. Only
+one weapon was left to him--the one which even Jim Swope had
+noticed--his head; and as he worked along up the hogback which led down
+from the shoulder of the Four Peaks he schooled himself to a Spartan
+patience and fortitude.
+
+At last from a high cliff which overshadowed the broad cañon of the
+middle fork, he looked down and saw the sheep, like a huge,
+dirty-brown blot, pouring in a hundred diverging lines down the valley
+and feeding as they came. Higher and higher up the sides the old ewes
+fought their way, plucking at the long spears of grass which grew
+among the rocks; and the advance guard, hurrying forward, nipped
+eagerly at the browse and foliage as they passed, until, at last, some
+tempting bush detained them too long and they were swallowed up in
+the ruck. Little paths appeared in the leaders' wake, winding in and
+out among the bowlders; and like soldiers the sheep fell into line,
+moving forward with the orderly precision of an army. A herder with
+his dogs trailed nonchalantly along the flank, the sun glinting from
+his carbine as he clambered over rocks, and in the rear another silent
+shepherd followed up the drag. So far it was a peaceful pastoral
+scene, but behind the herd where the camp rustler and his burros
+should have been there was a posse of men, and each man carried a
+gun.
+
+Hardly had Chapuli mounted the ridge before every head was raised; the
+swarthy Mexicans unslung their guns with a flourish, and held them at
+a ready. Yet for half an hour the lone horseman sat there like a
+statue, and if he resented their coming or saw the dust of other bands
+behind, he made no sign. Even when the guard of men passed beneath
+him, craning their necks uneasily, he still remained silent and
+immobile, like a man who has councils of his own or leads a force
+behind.
+
+The leader of the vanguard of the sheep was a white man, and not
+unversed in the principles of war, for after trailing safely through
+the box of the cañon--where a single rock displaced would kill a score
+of sheep, and where the lone horseman had he so willed could have
+potted half of the invaders from the heights--he turned his herd up a
+side cañon to the west and hastily pitched his camp on a ridge. As the
+heat of the day came on, the other bands up the cañon stopped also,
+and when the faint smoke showed Hardy that the camp rustlers were
+cooking dinner, he turned and rode for the leader's camp.
+
+Dinner was already served--beans, fried mutton, and bread, spread upon
+a greasy canvas--and the hungry herders were shovelling it down with
+knives in their own primitive way when Hardy rode up the slope. As he
+came into camp the Chihuahuanos dropped their plates, reached for
+their guns, and stood in awkward postures of defence, some wagging
+their big heads in a braggartly defiance, others, their courage
+waning, grinning in the natural shame of the peasant. In Hardy they
+recognized a gentleman of _categoría_--and he never so much as glanced
+at them as he reined in his spirited horse. His eyes were fixed upon
+the lone white man, their commander, who stood by the fire regarding
+him with cold suspicion, and to whom he bowed distantly.
+
+"Good-morning," he said, by way of introduction, and the sheepman
+blinked his eyes in reply.
+
+"Whose sheep are those?" continued Hardy, coming to the point with
+masterful directness, and once more the boss sheepman surveyed him
+with suspicion.
+
+[Illustration: "Put up them guns, you gawky fools! This man ain't going
+to 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 a
+stranger to him, rather tall and slender, with drawn lips and an eye
+that never wavered. His voice was tense with excitement and he kept
+his right thumb hooked carelessly into the corner of his pocket, not
+far 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 thought
+of trouble. "I believe I met you once, down in Moroni."
+
+"Ump!" grunted Mr. Thomas unsociably, and at that moment one of the
+Mexicans, out of awkwardness, dropped his gun. As he stooped to pick
+it up a slow smile crept over the cowman's lips, a smile which
+expressed polite amusement along with a measured contempt--and the
+boss herder was stung with a nameless shame at the false play.
+
+"Put up them guns, you dam' gawky fools!" he yelled in a frenzy of
+rage. "Put 'em up, I say. This man ain't goin' to eat ye!" And though
+the poor browbeaten Chihuahuanos understood not a word of English they
+felt somehow that they had been overzealous and shuffled back to their
+blankets, like watchdogs that had been rebuked.
+
+"Now," said the sheepman, taking his hand from his gun, "what can I do
+for 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 me
+how you got in here, just for instance?"
+
+"Always glad to 'commodate--where I can, of course," returned the
+sheepman grimly. "I came in over the top of them Four Peaks yonder."
+
+"Um," said Hardy, glancing up at the rocky walls. "Then you must've
+had hooks on your eyebrows, for sure. I suppose the rest of the family
+is coming, too! And, by the way, how is my friend, Mr. Swope?"
+
+He appended this last with an artless smile, quite lacking in
+bitterness, but somehow the boss herder felt himself discredited by
+the inquiry, as if he were consorting with thieves. It was the old
+shame of the sheepman, the shame which comes to the social outcast,
+and burns upon the cheek of the dishonored bastard, but which is
+seared deepest into the heart of the friendless herder, the
+Ishmaelite of the cow-country, whose hand is against every man and
+every man's against him. Hunger and thirst he can endure, and the
+weariness of life, but to have all men turn away from him, to
+answer him grudgingly, to feed him at their table, but refuse
+themselves to eat, this it is which turns his heart to bitterness
+and makes him a man to be feared. As Thomas had looked at this trim
+young cowboy, smooth-shaven and erect, sitting astride a blooded
+horse which snorted and pawed the ground delicately, and then had
+glanced at the low and brutal Mexicans with whom his lot was cast, a
+blind fury had swept over him, wreaking its force upon his own
+retainers; 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 had
+hoped that I might find him up here." There was a suggestion of irony
+in his words which was not lost upon the _mayordomo_, but Thomas let
+the 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 the
+matter?"
+
+"Matter with what?" growled Thomas morosely.
+
+"Why, with Jim, of course. I thought after the pleasant times we had
+together last Spring he'd be sure to come around. In fact," he added
+meaningly, "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 a
+suggestion of bitterness in his voice which Hardy was not slow to
+note.
+
+"Well, perhaps not," he allowed; "but you know, and I know, that this
+is no pleasure trip you're on--in fact, it's dangerous, and I never
+thought that Jim Swope would send a man where he was afraid to go
+himself. Now I've got nothing against you, Mr. Thomas, and of course
+you'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 along
+himself if he wants to sheep me out?
+
+"I've fed him, and I've fed all his herders and all his friends; I've
+grained his horses when they were ga'nted down to a shadow because his
+own sheep had cleaned up the feed; I've made him welcome to my house
+and done everything I could for him; and all I asked in return was
+that he would respect this upper range. He knows very well that if his
+sheep go through here this Fall our cattle will die in the Winter, and
+he knows that there is plenty of feed out on The Rolls where our cows
+can'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 Hidden
+Water, while the Mexicans watched him furtively from beneath their
+slouched 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 in
+camp. I haven't got a friend within forty miles, if that's what you
+mean. I suppose you've got your orders, Mr. Thomas, but I just want to
+talk 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 a
+warm subject. But mebby you'd like a bite to eat before we git down to
+business?" He waved a deprecating hand at the greasy canvas, and Hardy
+swung quickly down from his saddle.
+
+"Thanks. But don't let me keep you from your dinner. Here's where I
+break even with Jim Swope for all that grub I cooked last Spring," he
+remarked, 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 other
+side, and the Mexicans who had been so cocky took their plates and
+retired like Apaches to the edge of the brush, where they would not
+obtrude upon their betters.
+
+"They say it's bad for the digestion," observed Hardy, after the first
+silence, "to talk about things that make you mad; so if you don't
+mind, Mr. Thomas, we'll forget about Jim Swope. What kind of a country
+is it up there in Apache County, where you keep your sheep all
+Summer?"
+
+"A fine country," rejoined Thomas, "and I wish to God I was back to
+it," he added.
+
+"Why, what's the matter with this country? It looks pretty good to
+me."
+
+"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 had
+one of the nicest little ranches in the White Mountains; there was
+good huntin' and fishin' and--well, I felt like a white man up
+there--never had no trouble, you understand--and I was makin' good
+money, too."
+
+His voice, which before had been harsh and strident, softened down as
+he dwelt upon the natural beauty of the mountains which had been his
+home, but there was a tone of sadness in his talk which told Hardy
+that ultimately he had suffered some great misfortune there. His
+occupation alone suggested that--for there are few white men working
+as sheep-herders who lack a hard luck story, if any one will listen to
+it. But this Shep Thomas was still young and unbroken, with none of
+the black marks of dissipation upon his face, and his eyes were as
+keen and steady as any hunter's. He was indeed the very type of
+fighter that Swope had sought, hardy and fearless, and at the same
+time careful. As they sat together Hardy looked him over and was glad
+that he had come out unarmed, yet though his host seemed a man of just
+and reasonable mind there was a set, dogged look in his eyes which
+warned the cowman not to interfere, but let him talk his fill. And the
+boss herder, poor lonely man, was carried away in spite of himself by
+the temptation of a listener; after many days of strife and turmoil,
+cutting trails, standing off cowmen, cursing Mexicans, at last to meet
+a white man who would just sit silent and let him talk! His stories
+were of hunting and fishing, of prospecting, and restless adventures
+among the Indians, and every time the conversation worked around
+towards sheep he led it resolutely away. And for his part, never for a
+moment did Hardy try to crowd him, but let the talk lead where it
+would, until of his own volition the sheepman told his story.
+
+"I suppose you wonder what I'm doing down here," he said at last, "if
+I was so stuck on the Concho country? Well, I bet you wouldn't guess
+in 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 put
+me on the bum?"
+
+"Poker game?" queried Hardy politely.
+
+"Nope," replied the sheepman, showing his teeth, "I'm winners on
+poker."
+
+"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. But
+here, I've been holdin' out on you a little--I never told you what it
+was 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 never
+ten miles from home."
+
+"Then why does Jim Swope bring his bands south every Fall? I hear he
+loses 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 a
+livin'; he's tryin' to git rich. He's doin' it, too."
+
+Once more the note of bitterness came into his voice, and Hardy saw
+that the time had come.
+
+"How's that?" he inquired quietly, and the sheepman plunged into his
+story.
+
+"Well, it was this way. I kept a few thousand sheep up there in my
+valley. In the Summer we went up the mountain, followin' the grass,
+and in the Winter we fed down below, where the ground was bare. It
+never got very cold, and my sheep was used to it, anyhow. The Navajos
+don't move their sheep south, do they? Well, they're away north of
+where 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 Hardy
+supplied 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 sheepman
+yourself!"
+
+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 it
+happened."
+
+"Why hell, man," burst out the sheepman, "it's as plain as the nose on
+your face--I didn't belong to the Association. All these big sheepmen
+that drive north and south belong to the Sheepmen's Protective
+Association, and they stand in with each other, but we little fellows
+up in 'Pache County was nobody. It's about ten years ago now that the
+Swope outfit first came in through our country; and, bein' in the
+sheep business ourselves, we was always friendly, and never made no
+trouble, and naturally supposed that they'd respect our range. And so
+they did, until I found one of Jim's herders in on my ranch last
+Summer.
+
+"Well, I thought there was some misunderstandin', but when I told him
+and his _compadres_ to move it was a bad case of 'No savvy' from the
+start; and while I was monkeyin' around with them a couple of more
+bands sneaked in behind, and first thing I knew my whole lower range
+was 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' round
+about it--I was jest naturally sheeped out.
+
+"It looked like I was busted, but I wouldn't admit it, and while I was
+studyin' on the matter along comes Jim himself and offers me five
+thousand dollars for my sheep. They was worth ten if they was worth a
+cent, all fine and fat; but my winter feed was gone and of course I
+was 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 higher
+bid. But these sheepmen stand in with each other on a proposition like
+that, 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 his
+short ribs, 'or I'll let the light in on you,' and after that Jim and
+me understood each other perfectly. In fact, we got stuck on each
+other. Yes, sir, after I got over bein' excited and could listen to
+reason, he put it to me straight--and he was right.
+
+"'What's the use of bein' the yaller dog?' he says. 'You can't buck
+the whole Association. But we've got room for you,' he says, 'so git
+on 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 a
+solid mass, their heads tucked under each other's bellies to escape
+the 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 and
+implored, and cursed and said his prayers, tryin' to git me interested
+in the sheep business again; but like the pore, dam' fool I am I keep
+that five thousand dollars in the bank." His shoulders heaved for a
+moment with silent laughter, and then his face turned grave.
+
+"Well, Mr. Hardy," he said, "business is business, and I've got to be
+movin' along pretty soon. I believe you said you'd like to talk
+matters over for a minute."
+
+"Yes," answered Hardy promptly, "I'd like to make arrangements to have
+you turn out through that pass yonder and leave us a little feed for
+next 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 the
+boss, then?"
+
+"I expect I'll see him before you do," said Hardy, "but if you get
+ahead of me you can just say that I asked you to move, and so you
+followed out your orders."
+
+"Yes," responded Thomas, smiling satirically, "that'd be lovely. But
+how long since I've been takin' orders off of you?"
+
+"Oh, I'm not trying to give you any orders," protested Hardy. "Those
+come 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 you
+have 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. And
+then, to show there was no mistake about it, he told me if I found any
+of his sheep on my range to order them off, and you would see that
+they went. Isn't that straight?"
+
+He leaned over and looked the sheepman in the eye but Thomas met his
+glance with a sardonic smile. "Sure, it's right. But I've received
+other orders since then. You know Jim claims to be religious--he's one
+of the elders in the church down there--and he likes to keep his word
+good. After you was gone he come around to me and said: 'That's all
+right, Shep, about what I said to that cowman, but there's one thing I
+want you always to remember--feed my sheep!' Well, them's my orders."
+
+"Well," commented Hardy, "that may be good Scripture, but what about
+my cows? There's plenty of feed out on The Rolls for Jim's sheep, but
+my cows have got to drink. We cowmen have been sheeped out of all the
+lower country down there, and here we are, crowded clear up against
+the rocks. You've stolen a march on us and of course you're entitled
+to 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 turn
+out through this pass and go down onto The Rolls. If you'll do that I
+can turn all the rest of the sheep and keep my cows from starving, but
+if you go through me they'll all go through me, and I'm done for. I
+don't make any threats and I can't offer any inducements, but I just
+ask you, as a white man, to go around."
+
+As he ended his appeal he stood with his hands thrown out, and the
+sheepman 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 living
+in these parts." And so, in a friendship unparalleled in the history
+of the Four Peaks country, a sheepman and a cowman parted in
+amity--and the sheep went around.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XI
+
+JUMPED
+
+
+Winter, the wonted season of torrential rains, six weeks' grass, and
+budding flowers, when the desert is green and the sky washed clean and
+blue, followed close in the wake of the sheep, which went drifting
+past Hidden Water like an army without banners. But alas for Hidden
+Water and the army of sheep!--in this barren Winter the torrential
+rains did not fall, the grass did not sprout, and the flowers did not
+bloom. A bleak north wind came down from the mountains, cold and dry
+and crackling with electricity, and when it had blown its stint it
+died 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 feet
+high against the horizon. But, after much labor, the keen, steely,
+north wind rushed suddenly down upon the black clouds, from whose
+edges the first spatter of rain had already spilled, and swept them
+from the horizon, howling mournfully the while and wrestling with the
+gaunt trees at night. In shaded places the icicles from slow-seeping
+waters clung for days unmelted, and the migrant ducks, down from the
+Arctic, rose up from the half-frozen sloughs and winged silently away
+to the far south. Yet through it all the Dos S cattle came out
+unscathed, feeding on what dry grass and browse the sheep had left on
+Bronco Mesa; and in the Spring, when all hope seemed past, it rained.
+
+Only those who have been through a drought know what music there is
+hidden 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 and
+wild horses take to roaming and wandering out of pure excess of
+spirits. It was early in March when the first showers came, and as
+soon as the new feed was up Creede began his preparations for the
+spring _rodéo_. The Winter had been a hard one, and not without its
+worries. In an interview, which tended on both sides to become heated
+and personal, Jim Swope had denounced Hardy for misrepresenting his
+orders to his _mayordomo_, and had stated in no uncertain terms his
+firm intention of breaking even in the Spring, if there was a blade of
+grass left on the upper range.
+
+The season had been a bad one for his sheep, windy and cold, with sand
+storms which buried the desert in a pall and drove many flocks to the
+hills; and as the feed became shorter and shorter vagrant bands began
+to drift in along the Salagua. In the battle for the range that
+followed herders and punchers greeted each other with angry snarls
+which grew more wolfish every day, and old Pablo Moreno, shaking his
+white head over their quarrels, uttered gloomy prophecies of greater
+evils to come. Sheep would die, he said, cattle would die--it was only
+a 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, the
+women stood by the public well all night, waiting to fill their
+_ollas_; not for nine years had the rains fallen there, and now the
+drought was spreading north. Arizona, California, Nevada, all were
+doomed, yet _paciencia_, perhaps--and then came the rain. Yes, it was
+a good rain but--and then it rained again. _Que bueno_, who would not
+be made a liar for rain? But _cuidado_--behold, the ground was still
+dry; it drank up the water as it fell and was thirsty again; the river
+fell lower and lower and the water was clear; a bad sign, a very bad
+sign!
+
+But if the young should wait upon the advice of the old there would be
+no more miracles. Creede and Hardy passed up the weather, strapped on
+their six-shooters, and began to patrol the range, "talking reason" to
+the stray Mexicans who thought that, because their sheep were getting
+poor, they ought to move them to better feed.
+
+The time for friendship and diplomacy was past, as Hardy politely
+informed his employer by letter--after which he told Rafael to keep
+away from the post office and not bring him any more _corréo_, if he
+valued 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 like
+his change of policy he had better come down and see the actual
+conditions for himself--and the old judge came.
+
+It was midafternoon of that fateful day when Creede and Hardy, riding
+in from up the river, saw Rafael's wagon in front of the house. This
+was not surprising in itself as he had been down to Bender for
+round-up supplies, but as the two partners approached the house Creede
+suddenly grabbed Hardy's rein and drew back as if he were on top of a
+rattlesnake.
+
+"For God's sake," he said, "what's that? Listen!"
+
+He jerked a thumb toward the house, and in the tense silence Hardy
+could clearly discern the sound of women's voices. Now you could ride
+the Four Peaks country far and wide and never hear the music of such
+voices, never see calico on the line, or a lace curtain across the
+window. There were no women in that godless land, not since the Widow
+Winship took Sallie and Susie and left precipitately for St. Louis,
+none save the Señora Moreno and certain strapping Apache squaws who
+wore buckskin _téwas_ and carried butcher knives in their belts. Even
+the heart of Rufus Hardy went pit-a-pat and stopped, at the sound of
+that happy chatter.
+
+"They're rustlin' the whole dam' house," exclaimed Creede, all nerves
+and excitement. "Didn't you hear that pan go 'bamp'? Say, I believe
+they're cleanin' house! Rufe," he whispered, "I bet you money we're
+jumped!"
+
+The possibility of having their ranch preëmpted during their absence
+had been spoken of in a general way, since Jim Swope had gone on the
+warpath, but in his secret soul Rufus Hardy had a presentiment which
+made claim-jumping look tame. There was a chastened gayety in the
+voices, a silvery ripple in the laughter, which told him what Creede
+with all his cunning could never guess; they were voices from another
+world, a world where Hardy had had trouble and sorrow enough, and
+which he had left forever. There was soldier blood in his veins and in
+two eventful years he had never weakened; but the suddenness of this
+assault stampeded him.
+
+"You better go first, Jeff," he said, turning his horse away, "they
+might--"
+
+But Creede was quick to intercept him.
+
+"None o' that, now, pardner," he said, catching his rein. "You're
+parlor-broke--go on ahead!"
+
+There was a wild, uneasy stare in his eye, which nevertheless meant
+business, and Hardy accepted the rebuke meekly. Perhaps his conscience
+was already beginning to get action for the subterfuge and deceit
+which he had practised during their year together. He sat still for a
+moment, 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 as
+straight and resolute as any soldier. But Creede jogged along more
+slowly, tucking in his shirt, patting down his hair, and wiping the
+sweat from his brow.
+
+At the thud of hoofs a woman's face appeared at the doorway--a face
+sweet and innocent, with a broad brow from which the fair hair was
+brushed evenly back, and eyes which looked wonderingly out at the
+world through polished glasses. It was Lucy Ware, and when Hardy saw
+her he leaped lightly from his horse and advanced with hat in
+hand--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 you
+never received _any_ of my letters?"
+
+At this Creede stared, and in that self-same moment Hardy realized how
+the low-down strategy which he had perpetrated upon his employer had
+fallen upon his own head a thousandfold. But before he could stammer
+his apologies, Kitty Bonnair stood before him--the same Kitty, and
+smiling as he had often seen her in his dreams.
+
+She was attired in a stunning outing suit of officer's cloth, tailored
+for service, yet bringing out the graceful lines of her figure; and as
+Hardy mumbled out his greetings the eyes of Jefferson Creede, so long
+denied of womankind, dwelt eagerly upon her beauty. Her dainty feet,
+encased in tan high boots, held him in rapt astonishment; her hands
+fascinated him with their movements like the subtle turns of a
+mesmerist; and the witchery of her supple body, the mischief in the
+dark eyes, and the teasing sweetness of her voice smote him to the
+heart before he was so much as noticed.
+
+No less absolute, for all his strivings, was the conquest of Rufus
+Hardy, the frozen bulwarks of whose heart burst suddenly and went out
+like spring ice in the radiance of her first smile.
+
+"I knew you'd be glad to see me, too," she said, holding out her hand
+to 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--Miss
+Bonnair."
+
+"I'm glad to meet you, Mr. Creede," said Kitty, bestowing her hand
+upon the embarrassed cowboy. "Of course you know Miss Ware!"
+
+"Howdy do, Miss," responded Creede, fumbling for his hat, and as Miss
+Lucy took his hand the man who had put the fear of God into the hearts
+of 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, in
+anger or in jest, when it called for the ready word; but Kitty Bonnair
+had so stolen his wits that he could only stand and sweat like a
+trick-broken horse. As for Hardy he saw rainbows and his heart had
+gone out of business, but still he was "parlor-broke."
+
+"I am afraid you didn't find the house very orderly," he observed, as
+Creede backed off and the conversation sagged; and the two girls
+glanced at each other guiltily. "Of course you're just as welcome," he
+added 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 how
+pale we looked?" he asked, to mask his embarrassment. "But you were
+right, Jeff," he continued enigmatically.
+
+"Does he always defer to you that way, Mr. Creede?" inquired Kitty
+Bonnair, with an engaging smile. "_We_ used to find him rather
+perverse." She glanced roguishly at Hardy as she gave this veiled
+rebuke. "But what was it that you were right about?--I'm just dying to
+ask you questions!"
+
+She confessed this with a naive frankness which quite won the big
+cowboy's heart, and, his nerve coming back, he grinned broadly at his
+former suspicions.
+
+"Well," he said, "I might as well come through with it--I told him I
+bet we'd been jumped."
+
+"Jumped?" repeated Miss Kitty, mystified. "Oh, is that one of your
+cowboy words? Tell me what it means!"
+
+"W'y, it means," drawled Creede, "that two young fellers like me and
+Rufe goes out to ride the range and when we come back some other
+outfit has moved into our happy home and we're orphans. We've been
+havin' a little trouble with the sheep lately, and when I heard them
+pots and kittles rattlin' around in here I thought for sure some
+Mormon 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 the
+heavy 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 the
+saddle."
+
+"Oh!" exclaimed Kitty, disappointed, "and didn't you ever shoot
+_anybody_?"
+
+Creede blushed for her, in spite of himself. "Well," he replied
+evasively, "I don't know how it would be up where you come from, but
+that's kind of a leadin' question, ain't it?"
+
+"Oh, you have, then!" exclaimed Kitty Bonnair ecstatically. "Oh, I'm
+so glad to see a really, truly cowboy!" She paused, and gazed up at
+him 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 have
+hesitated, infatuated as he was. Every land has its symbolism and
+though the language of flowers has not struck root in the cow
+country--nor yet the amorous Mexican system of "playing the bear"--to
+give 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 was
+pulled off unnoticed, Hardy and Lucy Ware being likewise deep in
+confidences.
+
+"How strange you look, Rufus!" exclaimed Lucy, as Kitty Bonnair began
+her assault upon the happiness of Jefferson Creede. "What have you
+been doing to yourself in these two years?"
+
+"Why, nothing," protested Hardy, a little wan from his encounter with
+Kitty. "Perhaps you have forgotten how I used to look--our hair gets
+pretty long up here," he added apologetically, "but--"
+
+"No," said Lucy firmly. "It isn't a matter of hair, although I will
+admit 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 time
+trying to keep the sheep out--and he's very much displeased with you
+for disobeying his directions, too. He gave up some important business
+to come down here and see you, and I hope he scolds you well. Have you
+been 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, "do
+take your mind from those dreadful sheep. I asked you if you have been
+doing any _writing_ lately--you promised to send me some poems, don't
+you remember? And I haven't received a thing!"
+
+"Oh!" said Hardy, blushing at his mistake. "Well, I acknowledge that
+I haven't done right--and you have been very kind, too, Miss
+Lucy," he added gently. "But somehow I never finish anything down
+here--and the sheep have been pretty bad lately. I have to do my work
+first, you know. I'll tell you, though," he said, lowering his voice
+confidentially, "if I can see you when no one is around I'll give you
+what little I've written--at least, some of the best. A poet at
+his worst, you know," he added, smiling, "is the poorest man in the
+world. He's like a woman who tells everything--no one could respect
+him. 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 was
+gnawing at his heart. And with it there was something more--a tacit
+rebuke to her for having brought Kitty there to meet him.
+
+"We have missed you very much," she began softly, as if reading his
+thoughts, "and your letters were so interesting! Ever since I showed
+Kitty the first one she has been crazy to come down here. Yes, she has
+been reading 'The Virginian' and O. Henry and 'Wolfville' until it is
+simply awful to hear her talk. And ride--she has been taking lessons
+for a year! Her saddle is out there now in the wagon, and if she could
+have caught one of those wild horses out in that inclosed field I
+really believe she would have mounted him and taken to the hills like
+an 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 your
+father?"
+
+A light went suddenly from Lucy's eyes and her lips quivered, but her
+voice was as steady as ever.
+
+"He has gone down to the river," she said patiently. "Would you like
+to see him?"
+
+"Yes," he replied, still impersonally; and with his head down, he
+walked out to where Chapuli was standing. Then, as if some memory of
+her voice had come to him, he dropped the bridle lash and stepped back
+quickly into the house.
+
+"You mustn't notice my rudeness, Miss Lucy," he began abjectly. "Of
+course 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 stepped
+quietly out the light came back into Lucy's eyes.
+
+"I am going to hunt up the judge," he said, as he swung up on his
+horse; and, despite the protests of Jeff and Kitty Bonnair, who were
+still 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 the
+righteous indignation of Judge Ware, but Hardy's brain was in such a
+whirl that he welcomed the chance to escape. Never for a moment had he
+contemplated the idea of Kitty's coming to him, or of his seeing her
+again until his heart was whole. He had felt safe and secure forever
+within the walled valley of Hidden Water--but now from a cloudless sky
+the lightning had fallen and blinded him. Before he could raise a hand
+or even turn and flee she had come upon him and exacted his
+forgiveness. Nay, more--she had won back his love and enslaved him as
+before. Could it mean--what else could it mean? Nothing but that she
+loved 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 her
+whims; 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 regal
+prerogatives and come to him!
+
+He hugged the thought to his bosom like a man infatuated, and then a
+chill misgiving came upon him. Perhaps after all it was but another of
+those childish whims which made her seem so lovable--always eager,
+always active, always striving for the forbidden and unusual, yet so
+dear with her laughing eyes and dancing feet that all the world gave
+way before her. He bowed his head in thought, following the judge's
+tracks mechanically as he cantered down the trail, and when he came to
+the hill above the whirlpool and looked down at the empty landscape he
+was still wrestling with his pride. Never in the two years of his
+exile had he so much as mentioned her name to any one; it was a thing
+too sacred for confidences, this love which had changed the deep
+current of his life, a secret for his own soul and God--and yet, Lucy
+Ware might help him!
+
+And where in all the world would he find a more faithful friend than
+Lucy Ware? A secret shared with her would be as safe as if still
+locked in his own breast--and Lucy could understand. Perhaps she
+understood already; perhaps--his heart stopped, and pounded against
+his side--perhaps Kitty had told Lucy her story already and asked her
+to intercede! He dwelt upon the thought again as he gazed dumbly about
+for his employer; and then suddenly the outer world--the plain, rough,
+rocks-and-cactus world that he had lived in before they came--flashed
+up before him in all its uncompromising clearness; the judge was
+nowhere in sight!
+
+A sudden memory of Creede's saying that he could lose his boss any
+time within half a mile of camp startled Hardy out of his dreams and
+he rode swiftly forward upon the trail. At the foot of the hill the
+tracks of Judge Ware's broad shoes with their nice new hob-nails stood
+out like a bas-relief, pointing up the river. Not to take any chances,
+Hardy followed them slavishly through the fine sand until they turned
+abruptly up onto a ridge which broke off at the edge of the river
+bottom. Along the summit of this they showed again, plainly, heading
+north; then as the ravine swung to the west they scrambled across it
+and began to zigzag, working off to the east where Black Butte loomed
+up above the maze of brushy ridges like a guiding sentinel. At first
+Hardy only smiled at the circuitous and aimless trail which he was
+following, expecting to encounter the judge at every turn; but as the
+tracks led steadily on he suddenly put spurs to his horse and plunged
+recklessly up and down the sides of the brushy hogbacks in a desperate
+pursuit, for the sun was sinking low. The trail grew fresher and
+fresher now; dark spots where drops of sweat had fallen showed in the
+dry sand of the washes; and at last, half an hour before sundown,
+Hardy caught sight of his wandering employer, zealously ascending a
+particularly rocky butte.
+
+"Hello there, Judge!" he called, and then, as Judge Ware whirled
+about, he inquired, with well-feigned surprise: "Where'd you drop down
+from?"
+
+This was to let the old gentleman down easy--lost people having a way
+of waxing indignant at their rescuers--and the judge was not slow to
+take advantage of it.
+
+"Why, howdy do, Rufus!" he exclaimed, sinking down upon a rock. "I was
+just taking a little short cut to camp. My, my, but this is a rough
+country. 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 and
+come along home with me."
+
+"We-ell," said the judge, reluctantly descending the butte, "I guess I
+will. How far is it?"
+
+"About two miles, by trail."
+
+"Two miles!" exclaimed Judge Ware, aghast. "Why, it's just over that
+little hill, there. Why don't you take a short cut?"
+
+"The trail is the shortest cut I know," replied Hardy, concealing a
+smile. "That's the way the cattle go, and they seem to know their
+business. How does the country look to you?"
+
+But the old judge was not to be led aside by persiflage--he was
+interested in the matter of trails.
+
+"Cattle trails!" he exclaimed. "Do you mean to say that you do all
+your travelling on these crooked cow paths? Why, it is a matter of
+scientific observation that even on the open prairie a cow path loses
+nearly a quarter of its headway by constant winding in and out, merely
+to avoid frail bushes and infinitesimal stones. Now if you and Jeff
+would spend a little of your leisure in cutting trails, as they do in
+forestry, you would more than save yourselves the time and labor
+involved, I'm sure."
+
+"Yes?" said Hardy coldly. There was a subtle tone of fault-finding in
+his employer's voice which already augured ill for their debate on the
+sheep question, and his nerves responded instinctively to the jab.
+Fate had not been so kind to him that day, that he was prepared to
+take very much from any man, and so he remained quiet and let the
+judge go the whole length.
+
+"Why, yes, if you would stay about the ranch a little closer instead
+of going off on these armed forays against sheep--now just for
+example, how much would it cost to clear a passable trail over that
+ridge to the ranch?"
+
+He pointed at the hill which in his misguided enthusiasm he had been
+mounting, and Hardy's eyes glittered wickedly as he launched his
+barbed jest.
+
+"About a billion dollars, I guess," he answered, after mature
+consideration.
+
+"A billion dollars!" repeated the judge. "A billion dollars! Now here,
+Rufus," he cried, choking with exasperation, "I am in earnest about
+this matter! I don't altogether approve of the way you and Jeff have
+been conducting my affairs down here, anyway, and I intend to take a
+hand myself, if you don't mind. I may not know as much as you about
+the minor details of the cattle business, but I have been looking into
+forestry quite extensively, and I fail to see anything unreasonable in
+my suggestion of a trail. How far is it, now, over that hill to the
+ranch?"
+
+"About twenty-five thousand miles," replied Hardy blandly.
+
+"Twenty-five thousand! Why--"
+
+"At least, so I am informed," explained Hardy. "Geographers agree, I
+believe, that that is the approximate distance around the world. The
+ranch is over here, you know."
+
+He pointed with one small, sinewy hand in a direction diametrically
+opposite to the one his boss had indicated, and struck out down a cow
+trail. It was a harsh blow to the old judge, and rankled in his bosom
+for some time; but after making sure that his superintendent was
+correct he followed meekly behind him into camp. On the way, as an
+afterthought, he decided not to put down his foot in the matter of the
+sheep until he was quite sure of the material facts.
+
+They found Creede in the last throes of agony as he blundered through
+the motions of cooking supper. Half an hour of house-cleaning had done
+more to disarrange his kitchen than the services of two charming
+assistants could possibly repair. His Dutch oven was dropped into the
+wood box; his bread pan had been used to soak dirty dishes in; the
+water bucket was empty, and they had thrown his grease swab into the
+fire. As for the dish-rag, after long and faithful service it had been
+ruthlessly destroyed, and he had to make another one out of a flour
+sack. Add to this a hunger which had endured since early morning and a
+series of rapid-fire questions, and you have the true recipe for bad
+bread, at least.
+
+Kitty Bonnair had taken a course in sanitation and domestic science in
+her college days, since which time the world had been full of microbes
+and every unpleasant bacillus, of which she discoursed at some length.
+But Jefferson Creede held steadily to his fixed ideas, and in the end
+he turned out some baking-powder biscuits that would have won honors
+in a cooking school. There was nothing else to cook, his kettle of
+beans having been unceremoniously dumped because the pot was black;
+but Kitty had the table spotlessly clean, there was an assortment of
+potted meats and picnic knicknacks in the middle of it, and Lucy had
+faithfully scoured the dishes; so supper was served with frills.
+
+If the ladies had taken hold a little strong in the first spasms of
+house-cleaning, Jeff and Rufus were far too polite to mention it; and
+while the dishes were being washed they quietly gathered up their
+belongings, and moved them into the storeroom. Their beds being
+already spread beneath the _ramada_, it was not difficult to persuade
+the girls to accept Hardy's room, which for a man's, was clean, and
+the judge fell heir to Jeff's well-littered den. All being quickly
+arranged and the beds made, Creede threw an armful of ironwood upon
+the fire and they sat down to watch it burn.
+
+Three hours before, Hidden Water had been the hangout of two
+sheep-harrying barbarians, bushy-headed and short of speech; now it
+was as bright and cheerful as any home and the barbarians were changed
+to lovers. Yet, as they basked in the warmth of the fireside there was
+one absent from his accustomed place--a creature so fierce and shy
+that his wild spirit could never become reconciled to the change. At
+the first sound of women's voices little Tommy had dashed through his
+cat-hole and fled to the bowlder pile at the foot of the cliff, from
+whose dank recesses he peered forth with blank and staring eyes.
+
+But now, as the strange voices grew quiet and night settled down over
+the valley, he crept forth and skulked back to the house, sniffing
+about the barred windows, peeking in through his hole in the door; and
+at last, drawing well away into the darkness, he raised his voice in
+an appealing cry for Jeff.
+
+As the first awful, raucous outburst broke the outer silence Kitty
+Bonnair 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 he
+grows. Aw, say, that's just my cat. Here, pussy, pussy, pussy! D'ye
+hear 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 his
+breast, blacker, wilder, and scrawnier than ever, but purring and
+working his claws.
+
+"How's this for a mountain lion?" said Creede, stopping just inside
+the 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's
+dismay. "He uses that to climb cliffs with. That's right--he's a new
+kind of cat. Sure, they used to be lots of 'em around here, but the
+coyotes 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 he
+sank every available hook and claw into his master's arm; but when
+Kitty reached out a hand he exploded in a storm of spits and hisses
+and 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 ever
+saw in his life. W'y, sure! They ain't no women around here. I got him
+off a cowman over on the Verde. He had a whole litter of 'em--used to
+pinch Tom's tail to make him fight--so when I come away I jest quietly
+slipped Mr. Tommy into my shaps."
+
+"Oh, the poor little thing," said Kitty; and then she added, puckering
+up her lips, "but I don't like cats."
+
+"Oh, I do!" exclaimed Lucy Ware quickly, as Creede's face changed, and
+for a moment the big cowboy stood looking at them gravely.
+
+"That's good," he said, smiling approvingly at Lucy; and then, turning
+to 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 know
+cats--jest think you do, maybe. W'y, Tommy was the only friend I had
+here for two years. D'ye think he could fool me all that time? Rufe
+here will tell you how he follows after me for miles--and cryin',
+too--when the coyotes might git 'im anytime. And he sleeps with me
+every night," he added, lowering his voice.
+
+"Well, you can have him," said Kitty lightly. "Do they have any real
+mountain 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 about
+it!"
+
+Jefferson Creede moved over toward the door with a far-away look in
+his 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_ stop
+and tell me about Bill Johnson, and, yes--Hell's Hip Pocket!"
+
+"Why, Kitty!" exclaimed Lucy Ware innocently, and while they were
+discussing the morals of geographical swearing Hardy made his bow, and
+passed out into the night.
+
+The bitter-sweet of love was upon him again, making the stars more
+beautiful, the night more mysterious and dreamy; but as he crept into
+his blankets he sighed. In the adjoining cot he could hear Jeff
+stripping slivers from a length of jerked beef, and Tommy mewing for
+his share.
+
+"Want some jerky, Rufe?" asked Creede, and then, commenting upon their
+late supper, he remarked:
+
+"A picnic dinner is all right for canary birds, but it takes good
+hard grub to feed a man. I'm goin' to start the _rodér_ camp in the
+mornin' 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 a
+little?"
+
+"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 I
+learned somethin'," he added philosophically, "and when I want
+somebody to tell my troubles to, I'll know where to go. Say, she's all
+right, 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 awoke
+from their dreams. Kitty Bonnair was the first to open her eyes and
+peep forth upon the fairy world which promised so much of mystery and
+delight. The iron bars of their window, deep set in the adobe walls,
+suggested the dungeon of some strong prison where Spanish maidens
+languished for sight of their lovers; a rifle in the corner,
+overlooked in the hurried moving, spoke eloquently of the armed
+brutality of the times; the hewn logs which supported the lintels
+completed the picture of primitive life; and a soft breeze, breathing
+in 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 her
+ears; and, peering out, she saw Creede and Rufus Hardy squatting by a
+fire out by the giant mesquite tree which stood near the bank of the
+creek. Creede was stirring the contents of a frying-pan with a huge
+iron spoon, and Rufus was cooking strips of meat on a stick which he
+turned above a bed of coals. There was no sign of hurry or anxiety
+about their preparations; they seemed to be conversing amiably of
+other things. Presently Hardy picked up a hooked stick, lifted the
+cover from the Dutch oven, and dumped a pile of white biscuits upon a
+greasy cloth. Then, still deep in their talk, they filled their plates
+from the fry-pan, helped themselves to meat, wrapped the rest of the
+bread in the cloth, and sat comfortably back on their heels, eating
+with their fingers and knives.
+
+It was all very simple and natural, but somehow she had never thought
+of men in that light before. They were so free, so untrammelled and
+self-sufficient; yes, and so barbarous, too. Rufus Hardy, the poet,
+she had known--quiet, soft-spoken, gentle, with dreamy eyes and a
+doglike eagerness to please--but, lo! here was another Rufus, still
+gentle, but with a stern look in his eyes which left her almost
+afraid--and those two lost years lay between. How he must have changed
+in all that time! The early morning was Kitty's time for meditation
+and good resolutions, and she resolved then and there to be nice to
+Rufus, for he was a man and could not understand.
+
+As the sound of voices came from the house Jefferson Creede rose up
+from his place and stalked across the open, rolling and swaying in his
+high-heeled boots like a huge, woolly bear.
+
+"Well, Judge," he said, after throwing a mountain of wood on the fire
+as a preliminary to cooking breakfast for his guests, "I suppose now
+you're here you'd like to ride around a little and take stock of what
+you've got. The boys will begin comin' in for the _rodér_ to-day, and
+after to-morrow I'll be pretty busy; but if you say so I'll jest ketch
+up a gentle horse, and show you the upper range before the work
+begins."
+
+"Oh, won't you take me, too?" cried Kitty, skipping in eagerly. "I've
+got 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, shaking
+her head in a bronco gesture which dashed the dark hair from her eyes
+and made her look like an unbroken thoroughbred. Never in all his
+life, even in the magazine pictures of stage beauties which form a
+conspicuous mural decoration in those parts, had Creede seen a woman
+half so charming, but even in his love blindness he was modest.
+
+"We'll have to leave that to the judge," he said deferentially, "but
+they's horses for everybody." He glanced inquiringly at Lucy, who was
+busily unpacking her sketching kit; but she only smiled, and shook her
+head.
+
+"The home is going to be my sphere for some time," she remarked,
+glancing about at the half-cleaned room, "and then," she added, with
+decision, "I'm going to make some of the loveliest water colors in the
+world. I think that big giant cactus standing on that red-and-gray
+cliff over there is simply wonderful."
+
+"Um, pretty good," observed Creede judicially. "But you jest ought to
+see 'em in the gorge where Hidden Water comes out! Are ye goin' along,
+Rufe?" he inquired, bending his eyes upon Hardy with a knowing
+twinkle. "No? Well, _you_ can show her where it is! Didn't you never
+hear why they call this Hidden Water?" he asked, gazing benignly upon
+the young ladies. "Well, listen.
+
+"They's a big spring of water right up here, not half a mile. It's an
+old landmark--the Mexicans call it Agua Escondida--but I bet neither
+one of you can find it and I'll take you right by the gulch where it
+comes out. They can't nobody find it, unless they're wise enough to
+follow 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 take
+the first cow trail you see and follow it downhill and you'll go into
+one end or the other of Hidden Water cañon. Sure, it's what you might
+call the Hello-Central of the whole Four Peaks country, with cow paths
+instead of wires. The only thing lackin' is the girls, to talk back,
+and call you down for your ungentlemanly language, and--well, this
+country is comin' up every day!"
+
+He grinned broadly, wiping his floury hands on his overalls in
+defiance of Miss Kitty's most rudimentary principles; and yet even
+she, for all her hygiene, was compelled to laugh. There was something
+about Creede that invited confidence and feminine badgering, he was so
+like a big, good-natured boy. The entire meal was enlivened by her
+efforts, in the person of a hello girl, to expurgate his language, and
+she 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 for
+cause--and then I always regret it. But if you want to git some of the
+real thing to put in your phonygraft jest come down to the pasture
+to-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 some
+of them Sunflower stiffs when they git bucked onto a rock pile. And
+say, 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 she
+left the table. "Its tail, if it chanced to be a rattler, would be
+most 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. Now
+hurry up, and I'll be dressed in half an hour."
+
+Ten minutes later Creede rode up to the house, leading a sober gray
+for the judge, but for Kitty Bonnair he had the prettiest little
+calico-horse in the bunch, a pony painted up with red and yellow and
+white until he looked like a three-color chromo. Even his eye was
+variegated, being of a mild, pet-rabbit blue, with a white circle
+around the orbit; and his name, of course, was Pinto. To be sure, his
+face was a little dished in and he showed other signs of his scrub
+Indian blood, but after Creede had cinched on the new stamped-leather
+saddle and adjusted the ornate hackamore and martingale, Pinto was the
+sportiest-looking horse outside of a Wild West show.
+
+There was a long wait then, while Diana completed her preparations
+for the hunt; but when Kitty Bonnair, fully apparelled, finally
+stepped through the door Creede reeled in the saddle, and even Rufus
+Hardy gasped. There was nothing immodest about her garb--in fact, it
+was very correct and proper--but not since the Winship girls rode
+forth in overalls had Hidden Water seen its like. Looking very trim
+and boyish in her khaki riding breeches, Kitty strode forth
+unabashed, rejoicing in her freedom. A little scream of delight
+escaped her as she caught sight of the calico-pony; she patted his
+nose a moment, inquired his name, and then, scorning all assistance,
+swung lightly up into the saddle. No prettier picture had ever been
+offered to the eye; so young, so supple and strong, with such a
+wealth of dark, wavy hair, and, withal, so modest and honestly happy.
+But, somehow, Jefferson Creede took the lead and rode with his
+eyes 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 sober
+converse with the judge and Kitty scampering about like an Indian on
+her pinto horse, Hardy and Lucy Ware glanced at each other, and
+laughed.
+
+"Did you ever see any one like her?" exclaimed Lucy, and Hardy
+admitted with a sigh that he never had.
+
+"And I am afraid," observed Miss Lucy frankly, "you were not
+altogether pleased to see her--at first. But really, Rufus, what can
+any one hope to do with Kitty? When she has set her heart on anything
+she _will have it_, and from the very moment she read your first
+letter she was determined to come down here. Of course father thinks
+he came down to look into this matter of the sheep, and _I_ think that
+I came down to look after him, but in reality I have no doubt we are
+both here because Kitty Bonnair so wills it."
+
+"Very likely," replied Hardy, with a doubtful smile. "But since you
+are in her counsels perhaps you can tell what her intentions are
+toward me. I used to be one of her gentlemen-in-waiting, you know, and
+this 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 a
+bucking bronco, or kill a sheep-herder or two--or is it just another
+case of 'move on'?"
+
+He paused and smiled bitterly to himself, but Lucy was not in a mood
+to humor him in his misanthropy.
+
+"I must confess," she said, "that you may be called upon to do a
+few chivalrous feats of horsemanship, but as for the sheep-herder
+part of it, I hope you will try to please me by leaving them alone. It
+worries me, Rufus," she continued soberly, "to see you becoming so
+strong-willed and silent. There was a whole year, when none of us
+heard a word from you--and then it was quite by accident. And
+father thinks you stopped writing to him with the deliberate intention
+of driving the sheep away by violence."
+
+"Well, I'm glad he understands so well," replied Hardy naively. "Of
+course I wouldn't embarrass him by asking for orders, but--"
+
+"Oh, Rufus!" exclaimed Miss Lucy impatiently, "do try to be natural
+again and take your mind off those sheep. Do you know what I am
+thinking of doing?" she demanded seriously. "I am thinking of asking
+father to give me this ranch--he said he would if I wanted it--and
+then I'll discharge you! You shall not be such a brutal, ugly man! But
+come, now, I want you to help clear the table, and then we will go up
+to Hidden Water and read your poems. But tell me, have you had any
+trouble with the sheepmen?"
+
+"Why, no!" answered Hardy innocently. "What made you ask?"
+
+"Well, you wrote father you expected trouble--and--and you had that
+big, long pistol when you came in yesterday. Now you can't deny
+that!"
+
+"I'm afraid you've had some Western ideas implanted in your bosom by
+Kitty, Miss Lucy," protested Hardy. "We never shoot each other down
+here. I carry that pistol for the moral effect--and it's necessary,
+too, to protect these sheepmen against their own baser natures. You
+see they're all armed, and if I should ride into their camp without a
+gun 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 they
+understand. No, _we're_ all right; it's the sheep-herders that have
+all the trouble."
+
+"Rufus Hardy," cried Miss Lucy indignantly, "if you mention those
+sheep 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 talk
+the way you used to talk? And then to hear you go on in this way! I
+thought at first that Mr. Creede was a nice man, but I am beginning to
+change my opinion of him. But you have just got to be nice to me and
+Kitty while we are here. I had so many things to tell you about your
+father, and Tupper Browne, and The Circle, but you just sit around so
+kind of close-mouthed and silent and never ask a question! Wouldn't
+you 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 tell
+him 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 was
+coming. I am sorry you can't agree--isn't there something you could do
+to 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 please
+his 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 Hardy
+casually. "No? Then please don't. But I'll bet if you told him I was
+catching wild horses, or talking reason to these Mexican herders,
+you'd have the old man coming. He's a fighter, my father, and if you
+want to make him happy when you go back, tell him his son has just
+about given up literature and is the champion bronco-twister of the
+Four Peaks range."
+
+"But Rufus--would that be the truth?"
+
+Hardy laughed. "Well, pretty near it--but I'm trying to please my best
+friend now."
+
+"Oh," said Lucy, blushing. "Will--will that make much difference?" she
+asked.
+
+"All the difference in the world," declared Hardy warmly. "You want me
+to become a poet--he wants me to become a fighter. Well now, since I
+haven't been able to please him, I'm going to try to please you for a
+while."
+
+"Oh, Rufus," cried Lucy, "am I really--your best friend?"
+
+"Why sure! Didn't you know that?" He spoke the words with a bluff
+good-fellowship which pleased her, in a way, but at the same time left
+her silent. And he, too, realized that there was a false note, a rift
+such as often creeps in between friends and if not perceived and
+checked widens into a breach.
+
+"You know," he said, quietly making his amends, "when I was a boy my
+father always told me I talked too much; and after mother died
+I--well, I didn't talk so much. I was intended for a soldier, you
+know, and good officers have to keep their own counsel. But--well, I
+guess the habit struck in--so if I don't always thank you, or tell you
+things, you will understand, won't you? I wasn't raised to please
+folks, you know, but just to fight Indians, and all that. How would
+you 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 killed
+anybody." She paused and glanced up at him, but he was deep in
+thought.
+
+"My mother was a soldier's wife," he said, at last; and Lucy, seeing
+where his thoughts had strayed, respected his silence. It was
+something she had learned long before, for while Rufus would sometimes
+mention his mother he would never talk about her, even to Lucy Ware.
+So they finished their housework, deep in their own thoughts. But when
+at last they stepped out into the sunshine Lucy touched him on the
+arm.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to bring your poems with you?" she suggested. "We
+can read them when we have found the spring. Is it very beautiful up
+there?"
+
+"Yes," answered Hardy, "I often go there to write, when nobody is
+around. You know Jeff and all these cowboys around here don't know
+that I write verse. They just think I'm a little fellow from somewhere
+up in California that can ride horses pretty good. But if I had handed
+it out to them that I was a poet, or even a college man, they would
+have gone to tucking snakes into my blankets and dropping _chili
+bravos_ into my beans until they got a rise out of me, sure. I learned
+that much before I ever came up here. But I've got a little place I
+call my garden--up in the cañon, above Hidden Water--and sometimes I
+sneak off up there, and write. Would you like to see a poem I wrote up
+there? All right, you can have the rest some other time." He stepped
+into the storeroom, extracted a little bundle from his war bag, and
+then they passed on up the valley together.
+
+The cañon of the Alamo is like most Arizona stream beds, a strait-jacket
+of rocky walls, opening out at intervals into pocket-like valleys,
+such as the broad and fertile flat which lay below Hidden Water. On
+either side of the stream the banks rise in benches, each a little
+higher and broader and more heavily covered: the first pure sand, laid
+on by the last freshet; the next grown over with grass and weeds; the
+next bushed up with baby willows and arrow weed; and then, the high
+bench, studded with mesquite and _palo verdes_; and at the base of
+the solid rim perhaps a higher level, strewn with the rocks which time
+and the elements have hurled down from the cliff, and crested with
+ancient 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 as
+the two best friends followed along its windings Hardy pointed out the
+mysteries of the land: strange trees and shrubs, bristling with
+thorns; cactus in its myriad forms; the birds which flashed past them
+or sang in the wild gladness of springtime; lizards, slipping about in
+the sands or pouring from cracks in the rocks--all the curious things
+which his eyes had seen and his mind taken note of in the long days of
+solitary riding, and which his poet's soul now interpreted into a
+higher meaning for the woman who could understand. So intent were they
+upon the wonders of that great display that Lucy hardly noticed where
+they were, until the trail swung abruptly in toward the cliff and they
+seemed 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 its
+old-time poetic cadence. "And strait is the way thereof," he added, as
+he led her through the narrow pass, "but within are tall trees and
+running water, and the eagle nests undisturbed among the crags."
+
+"What _are_ you quoting?" exclaimed Miss Lucy, and for an answer Rufus
+beckoned her in and pointed with his hand. Before them stood the tall
+trees with running water at their feet, and a great nest of sticks
+among the crags.
+
+"Hidden Water!" he said, and smiled again mysteriously.
+
+Then he led the way along the side of the stream, which slipped softly
+over the water-worn bowlders, dimpling in pool after pool, until at
+the very gate of the valley it sank into the sand and was lost. Higher
+and higher mounted the path; and then, at the foot of a smooth ledge
+which rose like a bulwark across the gorge, it ended suddenly by the
+side of a cattle-tracked pool.
+
+"This is the wall to my garden," said Hardy, pointing to the huge
+granite dyke, "beyond which only the elect may pass." He paused, and
+glanced over at her quizzically. "The path was not made for ladies, I
+am afraid," he added, pointing to a series of foot holes which ran up
+the face of the ledge. "Do you think you can climb it?"
+
+Lucy Ware studied his face for a moment; then, turning to the Indian
+stairway, she measured it with a practised eye.
+
+"You go up first," she suggested, and when he had scaled the slippery
+height and turned he found her close behind, following carefully in
+his steps.
+
+"Well, you _are_ a climber!" he cried admiringly. "Here, give me your
+hand." And when he had helped her up he still held it--or perhaps she
+clung to his.
+
+Before them lay a little glade, shut in by painted rocks, upon whose
+black sides were engraved many curious pictures, the mystic symbols of
+the Indians; and as they stood gazing at it an eagle with pointed
+wings wheeled slowly above them, gazing with clear eyes down into the
+sunlit vale. From her round nest in the crotch of a sycamore a great
+horned owl plunged out at their approach and glided noiselessly away;
+and in the stillness the zooning of bees among the rocks came to their
+ears like distant music. Beneath their feet the grass grew long and
+matted, shot here and there with the blue and gold of flowers, like
+the rich meadows of the East; and clustering along the hillsides,
+great bunches of grama grass waved their plumes proudly, the last
+remnant of all that world of feed which had clothed the land like a
+garment before the days of the sheep. For here, at least, there came
+no nibbling wethers, nor starving cattle; and the mountain sheep which
+had browsed there in the old days were now hiding on the topmost crags
+of the Superstitions to escape the rifles of the destroyers. All the
+world without was laid waste and trampled by hurrying feet, but the
+garden of Hidden Water was still kept inviolate, a secret shrine
+consecrated to Nature and Nature's God.
+
+As she stood in the presence of all its beauty a mist came into Lucy's
+eyes and she turned away.
+
+"Oh, Rufus," she cried, "why don't you live up here always instead of
+wasting your life in that awful struggle with the sheep? You
+could--why, you could do anything up here!"
+
+"Yes," assented Hardy, "it is a beautiful spot--I often come up here
+when 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 I
+knew nothing of the sheep. I thought the little lambs were pretty; the
+ewes were mothers, the herders human beings. I tried to be friends
+with them, to keep the peace and abide by the law; but now that I've
+come to know them I agree with Jeff, who has been fighting them for
+twenty years. There is something about the smell of sheep which robs
+men of their humanity; they become greedy and avaricious; the more
+they make the more they want. Of all the sheepmen that I know there
+isn't one who would go around me out of friendship or pity--and I have
+done favors for them all. But they're no friends of mine now," he
+added ominously. "I have to respect my friends, and I can't respect a
+man 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 them
+off, 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 said
+earnestly, "but if I had all that God could give me I'd stand by Jeff
+against the sheep. It's all right to be a poet or an artist, a lover
+of truth and beauty, and all that, but if a man won't stand up for his
+friends when they're in trouble he's a kind of closet philosopher that
+shrinks from all the realities of life--a poor, puny creature, at the
+best."
+
+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 some
+vision. Yet whether it was of himself and Jeff, fighting their
+hopeless battle against the sheep, or of his life as it might have
+been 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 as
+suddenly as it had been cast aside, and he led the way up the little
+stream in silence. As he walked, the ardor of his passion cooled, and
+he 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 had
+stored their plunder for years. At last, as they stood before a
+drooping elder whose creamy blossoms swayed beneath the weight of
+bees, he halted and motioned to a shady seat against the cañon wall.
+
+"There are gardens in every desert," he said, as she sank down upon
+the grassy bank, "but this is ours."
+
+They sat for a while, gazing contentedly at the clusters of elder
+blossoms which hung above them, filling the air with a rich fragrance
+which was spiced by the tang of sage. A ruby-throated humming-bird
+flashed suddenly past them and was gone; a red-shafted woodpecker,
+still more gorgeous in his scarlet plumage, descended in uneven
+flights 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 the
+heart. I have a poem dedicated to him." Then, as if to excuse himself
+from the reading, he hastened on: "Of course, no true poet would
+commit such a breach--he would write a sonnet to his lady's eyebrow, a
+poem in memory of a broken dream, or some sad lament for Love, which
+has died simultaneously with his own blasted hopes. But a sense of my
+own unimportance has saved me--or the world, at any rate--from such
+laments. _Pajaro Corazon_ and _Chupa Rosa_, a little humming-bird who
+lives in that elder tree, have been my only friends and companions in
+the muse, until you came. I wouldn't abuse _Chupa Rosa's_ confidence
+by reading my poem to her. Her lover has turned out a worthless fellow
+and left her--that was him you saw flying past just now, going up the
+cañon 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 one
+of them to Lucy. It was a slip of yellow note paper, checked along the
+margin with groups of rhyming words and scansion marks, and in the
+middle 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 nodded
+solemnly 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 grew
+strangely soft and gentle. It was Lucy Ware of all the world who
+understood him. Others laughed, or pitied, or overdid it, or remained
+unmoved, but Lucy with her trusting blue eyes and broad poet's brow--a
+brow which always made him think of Mrs. Browning who was a poet
+indeed, she always read his heart, in her he could safely trust. And
+now, when those dear eyes filled up with tears he could have taken her
+hand, 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 her
+eyes and smiled.
+
+"Let me read some more," she pleaded; but Hardy held the bundle
+resolutely away.
+
+"No," he said gently, "it is enough to have pleased you once. You know
+poetry is like music; it is an expression of thoughts which are more
+than thoughts. They come up out of the great sea of our inner soul
+like the breath of flowers from a hidden garden, like the sound of
+breakers from the ocean cliffs; but not every one can scent their
+fragrance, and some ears are too dull to hear music in the rush of
+waters. And when one has caught the music of another's song then it
+is best to stop before--before some discord comes. Lucy," he began, as
+his 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 great
+longing--that he knew--a great desire, unsensed because unknown--but
+deep, deep.
+
+"Yes--Rufus?" she breathed, leaning over; but the light had gone out
+of his eyes and he gazed at her strangely.
+
+"It is nothing," he murmured, "nothing. I--I have forgotten what I was
+going to say." He sighed, and looked moodily at his feet. "The
+thoughts of a would-be poet," he mused, cynically. "How valuable they
+are--how the world must long for them--when he even forgets them
+himself! I guess I'd better keep still and let you talk a while," he
+ended, absently. But Lucy Ware sat gazing before her in silence.
+
+"Isn't it time we returned?" she asked, after a while. "You know I
+have a great deal to do."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," said Hardy, easily, "I'll help you. What do
+you want to do--clean house?"
+
+Lucy could have cried at her hero's sudden lapse--from Parnassus to
+the scullery, from love to the commonplaces of living; but she had
+schooled 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 a
+penitent.
+
+"Is my garden such a poor place," he inquired gravely, "that you must
+leave it the moment we have come? You have not even seen _Chupa
+Rosa_."
+
+"Well, show me _Chupa Rosa_--and then we will go."
+
+She spoke the words reluctantly, rising slowly to her feet; and Hardy
+knew that in some hidden way he had hurt her, yet in what regard he
+could not tell. A vague uneasiness came over him and he tried
+awkwardly to make amends for his fault, but good intentions never yet
+crossed a river or healed a breach.
+
+"Here is her nest," he said, "almost above our seat. Look, Lucy, it is
+made out of willow down and spider webs, bound round and round the
+twig. Don't you want to see the eggs? Look!" He bent the limb until
+the dainty white treasures, half buried in the fluffy down, were
+revealed--but still she did not smile.
+
+"Oh, stop, Rufus!" she cried, "what will the mother-bird think? She
+might be frightened at us and leave her nest. Come, let's hurry away
+before she sees us!"
+
+She turned and walked quickly down the valley, never pausing to look
+back, even when Rufus stopped to pluck a flower from among the rocks.
+
+"Here," he said, after he had helped her down the Indian stairway; and
+when she held up her hand, passively, he dropped a forget-me-not into
+it.
+
+"Oh!" she cried, carried away for a moment, "do they grow down here?"
+
+"Yes," he said, soberly, "even here. And they--sometimes you find them
+where you wouldn't expect--in rough places, you know, and among the
+stones. I--I hope you will keep it," he said, simply. And Lucy divined
+what was in his heart, better perhaps than he himself; but when at
+last she was alone she buried her face in the pillow, and for a long
+time the house was very still.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIII
+
+A SNOW-SCENE
+
+
+There was a big fire out under the mesquite that night and a band of
+cowboys, in all the bravery of spurs, shaps, and pistols, romped
+around it in a stage-struck exuberance of spirits. The night was
+hardly cold enough to call for fringed leather _chaparejos_, and their
+guns should have been left in their blankets; nor are long-shanked
+Texas spurs quite the proper thing about camp, having a dirty way of
+catching and tripping their wearers; but the _rodéo_ outfit felt that
+it was on dress parade and was trying its best to look the cowboy
+part. Bill Lightfoot even had a red silk handkerchief draped about his
+neck, with the slack in front, like a German napkin; and his cartridge
+belt was slung so low that it threatened every moment to drop his huge
+Colt's revolver into the dirt--but who could say a word?
+
+The news of Judge Ware's visit had passed through the Four Peaks
+country like the rumor of an Indian uprising and every man rode into
+Hidden Water with an eye out for calico, some with a foolish grin,
+some downcast and reserved, some swaggering in the natural pride of
+the lady's man. But a becoming modesty had kept Lucy Ware indoors, and
+Kitty had limited herself to a furtive survey of the scene from behind
+what was left of Sallie Winship's lace curtains. With the subtle
+wisdom of a _rodéo_ boss Jefferson Creede had excused himself to the
+ladies at the first sound of jangling horse-bells, and now he kept
+resolutely away from the house, busying himself with the manifold
+duties of his position. To the leading questions of Bill Lightfoot and
+the "fly bunch" which followed his lead he turned a deaf ear or
+replied in unsatisfying monosyllables; and at last, as the fire lit up
+the trees and flickered upon their guns and silver-mounted trappings
+and no fair maids sallied forth to admire them, the overwrought
+emotions 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, joined
+promptly 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 Bill
+Lightfoot coldly and puffed on his cigarette. Bill was always trying
+to 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, the
+place where a real gentleman would quit, but Lightfoot only tossed his
+head 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 him
+with his eye.
+
+"I like to see you boys enjoyin' yourselves," he observed, quietly,
+"but please don't discuss _politics_ or _religion_ while them ladies
+is over at the house. You better switch off onto 'My Bonnie Lies over
+the Ocean,' Bill." And Bill switched.
+
+"What's the matter?" he demanded aggrieved, "ain't anybody but you got
+any rights and privileges around here? You go sportin' around and
+havin' a good time all day, but as soon as one of us punchers opens
+his mouth you want to jump down his throat. What do _we_ know about
+ladies--_I_ ain't seen none!"
+
+The discussion of the moral code which followed was becoming
+acrimonious and personal to a degree when a peal of girlish laughter
+echoed from the ranch house and the cowboys beheld Judge Ware and
+Hardy, accompanied by Miss Lucy and Kitty Bonnair, coming towards
+their fire. A less tactful man might have taken advantage of the hush
+to utter a final word of warning to his rebellious subjects, but
+Creede knew Kitty Bonnair and the human heart too well. As the party
+came into camp he rose quietly and introduced the judge and the ladies
+to every man present, without deviation and without exception, and
+then, having offered Miss Ware his cracker box, he moved over a man or
+two 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 of
+them all; but though he had the voice of Mars and a head like Olympian
+Zeus he must needs abase his proud spirit to the demands of the
+occasion, for the jealousy of mortal man is a proverb. Where the
+punchers that he hired for thirty dollars a month were decked out in
+shaps and handkerchiefs he sat in his shirt-sleeves and overalls, with
+only his high-heeled boots and the enormous black sombrero which he
+always wore, to mark him for their king. And the first merry question
+which Miss Kitty asked he allowed to pass unnoticed, until Bill
+Lightfoot--to save the credit of the bunch--answered it himself.
+
+"Yes, ma'am," he replied politely. "That was a genuwine cowboy song we
+was singin'--we sing 'em to keep the cattle awake at night."
+
+"Oh, how interesting!" exclaimed Kitty, leaning forward in her
+eagerness. "But why do you try to keep them awake? I should think they
+would be so tired, after travelling all day."
+
+"Yes, ma'am," responded Bill, twisting his silk handkerchief
+nervously, "but if they go to sleep and anything wakes 'em up quick
+they stompede--so we ride through 'em and sing songs."
+
+"Just think of that, Lucy!" cried Miss Kitty enthusiastically. "And it
+was 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 all
+eyes 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 the
+suspense became unbearable, "and we're kinder bashful about singin' to
+company, anyway. But if you want to hear somethin' good, you want to
+git Bill goin' about Coloraydo. Sure, Mr. Lightfoot is our best
+story-teller; and he's had some mighty excitin' times up there in them
+parts, hain't you, Bill?"
+
+Bill cast a baleful glance at his rival and thrust out his chin
+insolently. His Coloraydo experiences were a matter of jest with Jeff
+Creede, but with the ladies it might be different. His courage rose
+before the flattering solicitude of Kitty Bonnair and he resolved then
+and there to fool Mr. Creede or know the reason why.
+
+"Well," he replied, stoutly, "they may look kinder tame alongside of
+your Arizona lies, but--"
+
+"Oh, Mr. Lightfoot, _do_ tell me all about it!" broke in Kitty, with
+an alluring smile. "Colorado is an awfully wild country, isn't it? And
+did you ever have any adventures with bears?"
+
+"Bears!" exclaimed Bill contemptuously. "Bears! Huh, we don't take no
+more account of ordinary bears up in Coloraydo than they do of coons
+down here. But them big silver-tips--ump-um--excuse _me_!" He paused
+and swaggered a little on the precarious support of his cracker box.
+"And yet, Miss Bunnair," he said, lowering his voice to a confidential
+key, "I slept a whole night with one of them big fellers and never
+turned a hair. I could've killed him the next day, too, but I was so
+grateful to him I spared his life."
+
+This was the regular "come-on" for Lightfoot's snow-storm story, and
+Creede showed his white teeth scornfully as Bill leaned back and began
+the yarn.
+
+"You see, Miss Bunnair," began the Colorado cowboy, rolling his eyes
+about the circle to quell any tendency to give him away, "Coloraydo is
+an altogether different country from this here. The mountains is
+mighty steep and brushy, with snow on the peaks, and the cactus ain't
+more 'n a inch high out on the perairie. But they's plenty of feed and
+water--you betcher life I wisht I was back there now instead of
+fightin' sheep down here! The only thing aginst that country up there
+is 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 blow
+and the cattle will begin to drift, and then about the time your horse
+is 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 west
+of the Medicine Bow Mountains and she came on to snow--and snow, I
+thought it would bury me alive! I was lost in a big park--a kind of
+plain or perairie among the mountains. Yes'm, they have'm there--big
+level places--and it was thirty miles across this here level perairie.
+The wind was blowin' something awful and the snow just piled up on my
+hat 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 sheltered
+place, until it was like walkin' in your sleep. And that light fluffy
+snow jest closed in over me until I was covered up ten feet deep. Of
+course my horse had give out long ago, and I was jest beginnin' to
+despair when I come across one of them big piles of rocks they have up
+there, scattered around promiscus-like on the face of nature; and I
+begin crawlin' in and crawlin' in, hopin' to find some cave or
+somethin', and jest as I was despairin' my feet fell into a kind of
+trail, kinder smooth and worn, but old, you know, and stomped hard
+under the snow. Well, I follers along this path with my feet until it
+come to a hole in the rocks; and when I come to that hole I went right
+in, fer I was desprit; and I crawled in and crawled in until I come to
+a big nest of leaves, and then I begin to burrow down into them
+leaves. And as soon as I had made a hole I pulled them leaves over me
+and fell to sleep, I was that exhausted.
+
+"But after a while I had some awful bad dreams, and when I woke up I
+felt somethin' kickin' under me. Yes 'm, that's right; I felt
+somethin' kinder movin' around and squirmin', and when I begin to
+investergate I found I was layin' down right square on top of a
+tremenjous big grizzly bear! Well, you fellers can laugh, but I was,
+all the same. What do you know about it, you woolies, punchin' cows
+down here in the rocks and cactus?
+
+"How's that, Miss Bunnair? W'y sure, he was hibernatin'! They all
+hibernate up in them cold countries. Well, the funny part of this was
+that Old Brin had gone to sleep suckin' his off fore foot, jest like a
+little baby, and when I had piled in on top of him I had knocked his
+paw out of his mouth and he was tryin' to git it back. But he was all
+quilled up with himself under them leaves, and his claws was so long
+he couldn't git that foot back into his mouth nohow. He snooped and
+grabbed and fumbled, and every minute he was gittin' madder and
+madder, a-suckin' and slobberin' like a calf tryin' to draw milk out
+of 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' woke
+up, so I resolved to do somethin' desprit. I jest naturally grabbed
+onto that foot and twisted it around and stuck it into his mouth
+myself! Afraid? Ump-um, not me--the only thing I was afraid of was
+that he'd git my hand and go to suckin' it by mistake. But when I
+steered his paw around in front of him he jest grabbed onto that big
+black pad on the bottom of his foot like it was m'lasses candy, and
+went off to sleep again as peaceful as a kitten."
+
+The man from Coloraydo ended his tale abruptly, with an air of
+suspense, 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 to
+death and if I knocked his paw out'n his mouth again he'd mash my face
+in with it--so I jest snuggled down against him, tucked my head under
+his chin, and went to sleep, holdin' that paw in his mouth with both
+hands."
+
+"Oh, Mr. Lightfoot," exclaimed Kitty, "how could you? Why, that's the
+most remarkable experience I ever heard of! Lucy, I'm going to put
+that story in my book when I get home, and--but what _are_ you
+laughing at, Mr. Creede?"
+
+"Who? Me?" inquired Jeff, who had been rocking about as if helpless
+with laughter. "W'y, _I_ ain't laughin'!"
+
+"Yes, you are too!" accused Miss Kitty. "And I want you to tell me
+what 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 never
+been up in those parts; but if Bill says so, that settles it. I never
+knew a feller from Coloraydo yet that could tell a lie. No, I was jest
+laughin' to think of that old bear suckin' his paw that way."
+
+He added this last with such an air of subterfuge and evasion that
+Kitty was not deceived for a moment.
+
+"No, you're _not_, Mr. Creede," she cried, "you're just making fun of
+me--so there!"
+
+She stamped her foot and pouted prettily, and the big cowboy's face
+took on a look of great concern.
+
+"Oh, no, ma'am," he protested, "but since it's gone so far I reckon
+I'll have to come through now in order to square myself. Of course I
+never had no real adventures, you know,--nothin' that you would care
+to write down or put in a book, like Bill's,--but jest hearin' him
+tell that story of gittin' snowed in reminded me of a little
+experience I had up north here in Coconino County. You know Arizona
+ain't all sand and cactus--not by no means. Them San Francisco
+Mountains up above Flag are sure snow-crested and covered with tall
+timber and it gits so cold up there in the winter-time that it breaks
+rocks. No, that's straight! Them prospectors up there when they run
+short of powder jest drill a line of holes in a rock and when one of
+them awful cold snaps comes on they run out and fill the holes up with
+hot water out of the tea-kittle. Well, sir, when that water freezes,
+which it does in about a minute, it jest naturally busts them rocks
+wide 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 to
+it; 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 up
+in Coloraydo, but the real genuwine Arizona article--the kind that
+gits started and can't stop, no more 'n a cloudburst. Well, one time I
+was knockin' around up there in Coconino when I ought to've been at
+home, and I come to a big plain or perairie that was _seventy miles
+across_, and I got lost on that big plain, right in the dead of
+winter. They was an awful cold wind blowin' at the time, but I could
+see the mountains on the other side and so I struck out for 'em. But
+jest as I got in the middle of that great plain or perairie, she come
+on 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 git
+bigger and bigger, until I felt like the Chinaman that walked down
+Main Street when they had that snow-storm in Tucson. Yes, sir, it was
+jest like havin' every old whiskey bum in town soakin' you with
+snow-balls--and all the kids thrown in.
+
+"My horse he began to puff and blow and the snow began to bank up
+higher and higher in front of us and on top of us until, bymeby, he
+couldn't stand no more, and he jest laid down and died. Well, of
+course that put me afoot and I was almost despairin'. The snow was
+stacked up on top of me about ten feet deep and I was desprit, but I
+kept surgin' right ahead, punchin' a hole through that fluffy stuff,
+until she was twenty foot deep. But I wasn't afraid none--ump-um, not
+me--I jest kept a-crawlin' and a-crawlin', hopin' to find some rocks
+or 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 a
+horny-toad under a haystack. Well, I was gittin' powerful weak and
+puny, but jest as I was despairin' I come across a big rock, right out
+there in the middle of that great plain or perairie. I tried to crawl
+around 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," he
+suggested, and then he began to roll a cigarette. Sitting in rigid
+postures before the fire the punchers surveyed his face with slow and
+suspicious glances; and for once Kitty Bonnair was silent, watching
+his deliberate motions with a troubled frown. Balanced rakishly upon
+his cracker box Bill Lightfoot regarded his rival with a sneering
+smile, a retort trembling on his lips, but Creede only leaned forward
+and 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 to
+take a big chance. Having been bitten a time or two all around, the
+_rodéo_ hands were wary of Jeff Creede and his barbed jests; the
+visitors, being ignorant, were still gaping expectantly; it was up to
+Bill Lightfoot to spring the mine. For a moment he hesitated, and then
+his 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 the
+cigarette to his lips with his hand as if concealing a smile.
+
+"Aw, rats," snapped out Lightfoot at last, "why don't you finish up
+and quit? What happened then?"
+
+"Then?" drawled Creede, with a slow smile. "W'y, nothin', Bill--_I
+died_!"
+
+"Ah-hah-hah!" yelled the punchers, throwing up handfuls of dirt in the
+extravagance of their delight, and before Bill could realize the
+enormity of the sell one of his own partisans rose up and kicked the
+cracker box out from under him in token of utter defeat. For an hour
+after their precipitate retreat the visitors could hear the whoops
+and gibes of the cowboys, the loud-mouthed and indignant retorts of
+Lightfoot, and the soothing remonstrances of Jefferson Creede--and
+from the house Kitty the irrepressible, added to their merriment a
+shriek of silvery laughter. But after it was all over and he had won,
+the round-up boss swore soberly at himself and sighed, for he
+discerned on the morrow's horizon the Indian signs of trouble.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIV
+
+FOREBODINGS
+
+
+To the Eastern eye, blinded by local color, the Four Peaks country
+looked like a large and pleasantly variegated cactus garden, sparsely
+populated with rollicking, fun-loving cowboys who wore their
+interesting 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 and
+untainted as if it drew out of Eden. But somewhere, somewhere in that
+great wilderness of peaks which lay to the south and through which
+only the dogged sheepmen could fight their way, stealthily hidden, yet
+watching, lay Jasper Swope and his sheep. And not only Jasper with his
+pet man-killing Chihuahuano and all those low-browed _compadres_ whom
+he 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 the
+shearing was over, but though they fed to the topmost peaks of the
+Superstitions, driving the crooked-horned mountain sheep from their
+pastures, their destiny lay to the north, in the cool valleys of the
+Sierra Blancas; and there in the end they would go, though they left
+havoc in their wake. Once before the sheep had vanished in this same
+way, mysteriously; and at last, travelling circuitous ways and dealing
+misery to many Tonto cowmen, they had poured over the very summit of
+the Four Peaks and down upon Bronco Mesa. And now, though they were
+hidden, every man on the round-up felt their presence and knew that
+the 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 the
+exposed lowland for its toll of half-fed steers; and even Rufus Hardy,
+the parlor-broke friend and lover, slipped away before any of them
+were stirring and rode far up along the river. What a river it was
+now, this unbridled Salagua which had been their moat and rampart for
+so many years! Its waters flowed thin and impotent over the rapids,
+lying in clear pools against the base of the black cliffs, and the
+current that had uprooted trees like feathers was turned aside by a
+snag. Where before the sheep had hung upon its flank hoping at last to
+swim at Hidden Water, the old ewes now strayed along its sandy bed,
+browsing upon the willows. From the towering black buttes that walled
+in Hell's Hip Pocket to the Rio Verde it was passable for a spring
+lamb, and though the thin grass stood up fresh and green on the mesas
+the river showed nothing but drought. Drought and the sheep, those
+were the twin evils of the Four Peaks country; they lowered the price
+of cattle and set men to riding the range restlessly. For the drought
+is a visitation of God, to be accepted and endured, but sheep may be
+turned back.
+
+As he rode rapidly along the river trail, halting on each ridge to
+search the landscape for sheep, Hardy's conscience smote him for the
+single day he had spent in camp, dallying within sight of Kitty or
+talking with Lucy Ware. One such day, if the sheepmen were prepared,
+and Bronco Mesa would be a desert. Threats, violence, strategy, would
+be of no avail, once the evil was done; the sheep must be turned back
+at the river or they would swarm in upon the whole upper range. One
+man could turn them there, for it was the dead line; but once across
+they would scatter like quail before a hawk, crouching and hiding in
+the gulches, refusing to move, yet creeping with brutish stubbornness
+toward the north and leaving a clean swath behind. There were four
+passes that cut their way down from the southern mountains to the
+banks of the river, old trails of Apaches and wild game, and to quiet
+his mind Hardy looked for tracks at every crossing before he turned
+Chapuli'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 an
+iron kettle before the fireplace. Poor Lucy, she had undertaken a hard
+problem, for there is as much difference between camp cooking and home
+cooking as there is between a Dutch oven and a steel range, and a
+cooking-school graduate has to forget a whole lot before she can catch
+the knack of the open fire. For the second time that day Rufus Hardy's
+conscience, so lately exercised over his neglect of the sheep, rose up
+and rebuked him. Throwing Chapuli into the corral he kicked off his
+spurs 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 save
+her back; and at the end of the short demonstration he sat down
+without ceremony, and fell to eating.
+
+"Excuse me," he said, "if I seem to be greedy, but I had my breakfast
+before sun-up. Where's your father, and Kitty?"
+
+"Oh, they had the Mexican boy catch their horses for them and have
+ridden up the valley to watch for the cattle. I stayed behind to
+make my first water color, and then--I thought you would be coming
+back soon, so I tried to cook supper instead. I'm a pretty good
+housekeeper--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 and
+planting her pots and kettles upon them with a hooked stick, according
+to instructions.
+
+"You look like a picture of one of our sainted Puritan ancestors," he
+observed, 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 Lucy
+despairingly, "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 touch
+the outside of a pot--and I scour them with sandsoap. But I wish you'd
+stop cooking, Lucy; it makes me feel conscience-stricken. You are my
+guests, 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 more
+interesting 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 the
+morning, I'll catch you a little pony that I gentled myself, and we
+can 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 and
+helpless a thing it is to be a woman--and how glad we are to be
+noticed! Why, I was just thinking before you came in that about the
+only really helpful thing a woman could do in this world was just to
+stay around home and cook the meals."
+
+"Well, you just let me cook those meals for a while," said Rufus, with
+brotherly authority, "and come out and be a man for a change. Can you
+ride pretty well?"
+
+Lucy glanced at him questioningly, and thought she read what was in
+his mind.
+
+"Yes," she said, "I can ride, but--but I just couldn't bring myself to
+dress like Kitty!" she burst out. "I know it's foolish, but I can't
+bear to have people notice me so. But I'll be a man in everything
+else, if you'll only give me a chance." She stood before him,
+radiant, eager, her eyes sparkling like a child's, and suddenly Hardy
+realized how much she lost by being always with Kitty. Seen by herself
+she was as lithe and graceful as a fairy, with a steady gaze very rare
+in women, and eyes which changed like the shadows in a pool, answering
+every mood in wind and sky, yet always with their own true light. Her
+cheeks glowed with the fresh color which her father's still retained,
+and she had inherited his generous nature, too; but in mind and
+stature she took after her dainty mother, whose exquisite grace and
+beauty had made her one of the elect. Perhaps it was this quality of
+the petite in her which appealed to him--for a little man cannot
+endure to be laughed at for his size, even in secret--or perhaps it
+was only the intuitive response to a something which in his
+prepossession he only vaguely sensed, but Rufus Hardy felt his heart
+go out to her in a moment and his voice sank once more to the
+caressing fulness which she most loved to hear.
+
+"Ah, Lucy," he said, "you need never try to be a man in order to ride
+with me. It would be hard luck if a woman like you had to ask twice
+for anything. Will you go out with me every day? No? Then I shall ask
+you every day, and you shall go whenever you please! But you know how
+it is. The sheepmen are hiding along the river waiting for a chance
+to sneak across, and if I should stay in camp for a single day they
+might make a break--and then we would have a war. Your father doesn't
+understand that, but I do; and I know that Jeff will never submit to
+being sheeped out without a fight. Can't you see how it is? I should
+like to stay here and entertain you, and yet I must protect your
+father's cattle, and I must protect Jeff. But if you will ride out
+with 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 it
+and turned away. The muffled _chuck, chuck,_ of a horse's feet
+stepping past the door smote upon his ear, and a moment later a clear
+voice hailed them.
+
+"What _are_ you children chattering about in there?" cried Kitty
+Bonnair, and Hardy, after a guilty silence, replied:
+
+"The ways of the weary world. Won't you come in and have the last
+word?"
+
+He stepped out and held Pinto by the head, and Kitty dropped off and
+sank wearily into a rawhide chair.
+
+"Oh, I'm too tired to talk, riding around trying to find those
+cattle--and just as I was tired out we saw them coming, away out on
+The Rolls. Lucy, do put on your riding habit and go back on
+Pinto--you haven't been out of the house to-day!"
+
+As half an hour later Lucy Ware trotted obediently away, riding up the
+cañon toward the distant bawling of cattle, Kitty turned suddenly upon
+Hardy with half-closed, accusing eyes.
+
+"You seem to be very happy with Lucy," she said, with an aggrieved
+smile. "But why," she continued, with quickening animus, "why should
+you seek to avoid me? Isn't it enough that I should come clear down
+here to see you? But when I want to have a word with you after our
+long silence I have to scheme and manage like a gypsy!"
+
+She paused, and flicked her booted leg with the lash of a horsehair
+quirt, glancing at him furtively with eyes that drooped with an
+appealing sadness.
+
+"If I had known how hard-hearted you could be," she said, after a
+silence, "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 friendship
+again, you might--oh Rufus, how could you be so inconsiderate! No one
+can ever know what I suffered when you left that way. Every one knew
+we were the best of friends, and several people even knew that you had
+been to see me. And then, without a word, without a sign, with no
+explanation, to leave and be gone for years--think what they must
+have thought! Oh, it was too humiliating!"
+
+She paused again, and to Hardy's apprehensive eyes she seemed on the
+verge of tears. So he spoke, blindly and without consideration, filled
+with a man's anxiety to stave off this final catastrophe.
+
+"I'm sorry," he began, though he had never meant to say it, "but--but
+there was nothing else to do! You--you told me to go. You said you
+never 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 be
+scolded and punished and sent away. I have been ashamed many times for
+what I did, but I had to keep my own respect--and so I left. Is it too
+much 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 does
+not always mean all she says? When you had made me so happy by your
+tender consideration--for you could be considerate when you chose--I
+said that I loved you; and I did, but not in the way you thought. I
+did mean it at the moment, from my heart, but not for life--it was no
+surrender, 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, you
+tried to claim that which I had never given, I--I said more than I
+meant again. Don't you understand? I was hurt, and disappointed, and I
+spoke 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 out
+with Lucy and leave me alone--to force me to arrange a meeting--"
+
+She stopped, and Hardy shifted uneasily in his seat. In his heart of
+hearts he had realized from the first his inequality in this losing
+battle. He was like a man who goes into a contest conquered already by
+his ineptitude at arms--and Kitty would have her way! Never but once
+had he defied her power, and that had been more a flight than a
+victory. There was fighting blood in his veins, but it turned to water
+before her. He despised himself for it; but all the while, in a
+shifting, browbeaten way, he was seeking for an excuse to capitulate.
+
+"But, Kitty," he pleaded, "be reasonable. I have my duties down
+here--the sheep are trying to come in on us--I have to patrol the
+river. This morning before you were awake I was in the saddle, and
+now I have just returned. To-morrow I shall be off again, so how can I
+arrange a meeting?"
+
+He held out his hands to her appealingly, carried away by the force of
+his own logic.
+
+"You might at least invite me to go with you," she said. "Unless you
+expect me to spend all my time getting lost with Judge Ware," she
+added, with a plaintive break in her voice.
+
+"Why, yes--yes," began Hardy haltingly. "I--I have asked Lucy to go
+with 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 Hardy
+awkwardly.
+
+"What? And rob her of all her pleasure?" Kitty smiled bitterly as
+she turned upon him. "Why, Rufus Hardy," she exclaimed, indignantly,
+"and she just dotes on every word you say! Yes, she does--any one
+can see that she simply adores you. I declare, Rufus, your lack of
+perception would make an angel weep--especially if it was a lady
+angel. But you may as well understand once and for all that I will
+never deprive dear, patient, long-suffering Lucy of anything she sets
+her heart on. No, I will _not_ go with you the next day. If you
+haven't consideration enough to invite me first, I have sense enough
+to stay away. It was only yesterday that you took Lucy up to Hidden
+Water, and to-day I find you with her again; and to-morrow--well, I
+perceive 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 furiously
+along the side of the cañon after a runaway steer.
+
+"Oh, look!" she cried again, as Hardy surveyed him indifferently. "He
+is 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 me
+have Pinto, just for a moment! All right--and Lucy--wasn't that Mr.
+Creede?" She lingered on the ground long enough to give her an
+ecstatic kiss and then swung up into the saddle. "Yes, I knew it--and
+isn't he just perfectly grand on that big horse? Oh, I've been wanting
+to see this all my life--and I owe it all to you!"
+
+With a smile and a gay salutation, she leaned forward and galloped out
+into the riot and confusion of the _rodéo_, skirting the edge of the
+bellowing herd until she disappeared in the dust. And somehow, even by
+the childlike obliviousness with which she scampered away, she
+managed to convey a pang to her errant lover which clutched at his
+heart for days.
+
+And what days those were for Jefferson Creede! Deep and devious as was
+his knowledge of men in the rough, the ways of a woman in love were as
+cryptic to him as the poems of Browning. The first day that Miss Kitty
+rode forth to be a cowboy it was the _rodéo_ boss, indulgent, but
+aware of the tenderfoot's ability to make trouble, who soberly
+assigned his fair disciple to guard a pass over which no cow could
+possibly come. And Kitty, sensing the deceit, had as soberly amused
+herself by gathering flowers among the rocks. But the next day, having
+learned her first lesson, she struck for a job to ride, and it was the
+giddy-headed lover who permitted her to accompany him--although not
+from any obvious or selfish motives.
+
+Miss Bonnair was the guest of the ranch, her life and welfare being
+placed for the time in the keeping of the boss. What kind of a foreman
+would it be who would turn her over to a hireling or intrust her
+innocent mind to a depraved individual like Bill Lightfoot? And all
+the decent cowmen were scared of her, so who was naturally indicated
+and elected but Jefferson D. Creede?
+
+There wasn't any branding at the round corral that night. The gather
+was a fizzle, for some reason, though Miss Kitty rode Pinto to a
+finish and killed a rattlesnake with Creede's own gun. Well, they
+never did catch many cattle the first few days,--after they had picked
+up the tame bunch that hung around the water,--and the dry weather
+seemed to have driven the cows in from The Rolls. But when they came
+in the second afternoon, with only a half of their gather, Creede rode
+out 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 has
+to ride a horse to death to find out; and the next day, after sending
+every man down his ridge, Jeff left Kitty Bonnair talking lion hunt
+with old Bill Johnson who had ridden clear over from Hell's Hip Pocket
+to 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 in
+particular that the boss wanted to see.
+
+"Jim," he said, riding up to where one of the Clark boys was sullenly
+lashing the drag with his _reata_, "what in the hell do you mean by
+lettin' 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 used
+to think you was a good puncher, Jim, but a man that can't keep a herd
+of cows from goin' through a box pass ought to be smokin' cigarettes
+on the day herd. You bet ye! All you had to do was be there--and
+that's jest exactly where you wasn't! I was up on top of that rocky
+butte, and I know. You was half a mile up the cañon mousin' around in
+them cliffs, that's where you was, and the only question I want to ask
+is, Did you find the Lost Dutchman? No? Then what in hell was you
+doin'?"
+
+The _rodéo_ boss crowded his horse in close and thrust his face
+forward until he could look him squarely in the eye, and Clark jerked
+back 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 did
+you call a feud on them?"
+
+"Since thet young lady come," replied Clark, glancing around to see if
+any 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 up
+a 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 himself
+had a set of rattles in his shap pocket that were not two hours from
+the 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 sure
+Miss Bonnair will appreciate what you've done for her, especially
+as I happened to notice a couple o' head of your own cows in that
+bunch, but it's a mighty expensive way to collect snake-tails. We
+ain't gittin' the cattle, boys; that's the size of it, and they're as
+much yours as they are mine. Now I suggest that we run these few
+we've got down to the corral and brand 'em quick--and then the whole
+shootin'-match goes over to the big white cliff and rounds up every
+rattlesnake in the rock pile! Is it a go?"
+
+"Sure!" yelled the bunch impetuously, and as they charged down upon
+the herd Creede quietly fished out his snake-tail and dropped it in
+the dirt.
+
+If he lacked a virtue he could feign it, anyhow--but there was no
+doubt about it, Miss Kitty was putting his _rodéo_ on the bum. There
+had never been so many men to feed and so few calves to brand in the
+history of Hidden Water. Even old Bill Johnson had got the fever from
+hearing the boys talk and was hanging around the fire. But then, what
+were a few head of cows compared to--well, what was it, anyway? The
+only man who could stay away was Rufe, and he was in good company.
+
+Yet Creede was not satisfied with this explanation. Miss Kitty was
+always asking questions about Rufe--they had known each other well in
+Berkeley--and at the same time the little partner with whom he had
+been so friendly never came around any more. He was always very
+polite, and she called him by his first name--and then one of them
+rode up the river and the other followed the round-up.
+
+The night after the big snake-killing Jefferson Creede picked up his
+blankets and moved quietly back to the _ramada_ with Hardy.
+
+"Them locoed punchers have been skinnin' rattlers and stretchin' their
+hides," he said, "until the camp stinks like a buzzard roost. I'm due
+to have some bad dreams to-night anyhow, on the strength of this
+snake-killin', but it'd give me the jumpin' jimjams if I had to sleep
+next 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 hole
+over'n the cliff, and the boys was stoppin' every time they heard one
+sing, anyhow, in order to git the rattles for Miss Bonnair, so I
+thought we might as well git it off our minds before somethin' worse
+turned up. See any sheep tracks?"
+
+He kicked off his boots, poked his six-shooter under his pillow, and
+settled down comfortably for the night.
+
+"Nary one, eh?" he repeated musingly. "Well, when you see one you'll
+see a million--that's been my experience. But say, Rufe, why don't you
+come and ride with the boys once in a while? The _rodéo_ has been
+goin' rotten this year--we ain't gittin' half of 'em--and you'd come
+in 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 over
+the rocks like a sand lizard; but I'm too heavy for anything like that
+now, 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 those
+elementary passions which have been making trouble since Helen of Troy
+left 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 Miss
+Bonnair happens to like my company, but Bill and some of the other
+boys have got their backs up over it, and they've practically gone on
+a strike. Leastwise we ain't gittin' the cattle, and God knows the
+range won't more 'n carry what's left. I've got to git out and do some
+ridin', and at the same time I want to do the right thing by Miss
+Bonnair, so if you could jest kindly come along with us to-morrow I'll
+be much obliged."
+
+The elemental passions--man-love, jealousy, the lust for possession--are
+ugly things at best, even when locked in the bosom of a poet. In their
+simplest terms they make for treachery and stealth; but when
+complicated with the higher call of friendship and duty they gall a
+man like the chains of Prometheus and send the dragon-clawed eagles
+of Jove to tear at his vitals. Never until this naive confession had
+Hardy suspected the sanity of his friend nor the constancy of Kitty
+Bonnair. That she was capable of such an adventure he had never
+dreamed--and yet--and yet--where was there a more masterful man than
+Jeff? Anything can happen in love; and who was there more capable of
+winning a romantic woman's regard than good-natured, impulsive,
+domineering Jeff?
+
+The thoughts flashed through his brain with the rapidity of
+lightning, and only his instinct of reserve protected him from his
+blundering tongue.
+
+"I--I was--" he began, and stopped short. The idea of loyalty had
+ruled his mind so long that it had become a habit, ill suited to the
+cause of a jealous lover; and Jeff had confided to him as a child
+might run to its mother. Should a man take advantage of his friend's
+innocence to deprive him of that for which they both strove? Hardy
+fought the devil away and spoke again, quietly.
+
+"I was going up the river to-morrow, Jeff," he said. "Seemed to me I
+saw a kind of smoke, or dust, over south of Hell's Hip Pocket this
+afternoon--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 had
+resolved to quit his lonely watch and snatch from life the pleasure of
+a single day with Kitty, such days as they used to have when he was
+her unacknowledged lover and all the world was young. Then he could
+always please her. He could bend to her moods like a willow, braving
+the storms of her displeasure, which only drew them closer in the end,
+secure in the hope of her ultimate yielding. But now the two barren
+years lay between; years which had stiffened his jaw and left him
+rough in his ways; years which had wrought some change in her, he knew
+not what. A single day might solve the crux--nay, it might bring the
+great happiness of which he dreamed. But each morning as he woke with
+the dawn he saw that mighty army without banners, the sheep, marching
+upon their stronghold, the broad mesa which fed the last of Jeff's
+cows, and Judge Ware's, and Lucy's--and sprang from his blankets. And
+when 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--a
+lot I didn't know. She likes you, boy, and she's a good woman. I never
+knowed but one like her, and that was Sallie Winship. You mustn't let
+anything that's happened stand between you. Of course she never said
+anything--never said a word--but I'm wise that way; I can tell by
+their voice, and all that. You want to let them dam' sheep go for a
+day 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, Jeff
+the peacemaker, who had stampeded him by the equivocation of his
+words. But now the voice broke in again, apologetic, solicitous,
+self-seeking.
+
+"Besides, that son-of-a-gun, Bill Lightfoot, has been tryin' to cut me
+out."
+
+God! There it hit him hard. Kitty, the immaculate, the exquisite, the
+friend of poets and artists, the woman he had loved and cherished in
+his dreams--striven for by Jeff and Bill, revelling in the homage of
+Mexicans and hard-drinking round-up hands, whose natural language was
+astench with uncleanliness. It was like beholding a dainty flower in
+the grime and brutality of the branding pen.
+
+"I'm sorry, Jeff," he said, in a far-away voice. "I--I'd do anything I
+could for you--but I'm afraid of those sheep."
+
+He dragged miserably through the remnant of their conversation and
+then lay staring at the stars while his hulk of a partner, this great
+bear who in his awkward good nature had trampled upon holy ground,
+slept peacefully by his side. The Pleiades fled away before Orion, the
+Scorpion rose up in the south and sank again, the Morning Star blinked
+and blazed like a distant fire, such as shepherds kindle upon the
+ridges, and still Hardy lay in his blankets, fighting with himself.
+The great blackness which precedes the first glow of dawn found him
+haggard and weary of the struggle. He rose and threw wood on the
+coals 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 his
+heart, and he questioned the verities of life. He rode up the river
+gloomily, searching the southern wilderness with frowning, bloodshot
+eyes, and once more, far to the east where the jagged cliffs of the
+Superstitions sweep down to the gorge of the Salagua and Hell's Hip
+Pocket bars the river's sweep, he saw that vague, impalpable haze--a
+smoke, a dust, a veil of the lightest skein, stirred idly by some
+wandering wind, perhaps, or marking the trail of sheep. And as he
+looked upon it his melancholy gaze changed to a staring, hawk-like
+intentness; he leaned forward in the saddle and Chapuli stepped
+eagerly 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 torn
+at the sensitive spirit of Rufus Hardy, seemed to rise up with the
+dawn 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 and
+generally contrary. Bill Johnson's hounds were the first to feel the
+madness. They left before sun-up, heading for the wooded heights of
+the Juate, and led him a weary chase. At the last moment Creede
+abandoned the unprofitable working of The Rolls and ordered the
+_rodéo_ up onto Bronco Mesa; and Kitty Bonnair, taking advantage of
+his preoccupation, quietly gave him the slip at the end of their long
+eastern detour, and turned her pinto's head toward the river.
+
+As for Kitty, her will was the wind's will, which changes with the
+times and seasons but is accountable to no universal law. Never in her
+life had she met a man who could quarrel like Rufus Hardy. Beneath
+her eye he was as clay in the hands of the potter; every glance spoke
+love, and for her alone. And yet it was something more than a
+smouldering resentment which made him avoid her, riding out before the
+dawn; more than the tremulous bashfulness which had stayed his hand
+when at times he might have taken hers. There was something deep,
+hidden, mysterious, lurking in those fawnlike eyes, and it made him
+insurgent against her will. It was a secret, hidden from all the
+world, which he must yield to her. And then she would forgive him for
+all the unhappiness he had caused her and teach him what a thing it is
+for a woman to love and be misunderstood. But first--first she must
+see him alone; she must burst upon him suddenly, taking his heart by
+storm as she had on that first day, and leave the rest to fate. So she
+lingered to gather some flowers which nodded among the rocks, the shy
+and dainty forget-me-nots which they had picked together at home; and
+when Creede was over the first ridge she struck out boldly up a side
+cañon, tucking the miniature bouquet into the shadows of her hair.
+
+The southern flank of Bronco Mesa breaks off sharply above the
+Salagua, 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 rougher
+ground. Urged on by the slashings of her quirt, Pinto galloped
+recklessly through this maze of cow paths until as if by magic the
+great valley lay before them. There in its deep cañon was the river
+and the river trail--and a man, mounted upon a sorrel horse, savagely
+intent upon his way. For a minute Kitty studied him curiously as he
+hustled along, favoring his horse up the hills but swinging to the
+stirrup as he dodged bushes across the flats; then she flung out her
+hand impulsively, and called his name. In a flash he was up in his
+saddle, looking. Chapuli tossed his head and in the act caught a
+glimpse of the other horse--then they both stood rigid, gazing in
+astonishment at the living statue against the sky. At sight of that
+witching figure, beckoning him from the mountain top, Hardy's heart
+leaped within him and stopped. Once more the little hand was thrown
+out against the sky and a merry voice floated down to him from the
+sun-touched heights.
+
+"Hello, Rufus!" it called teasingly, and still he sat gazing up at
+her. All the untamed passions of his being surged up and choked his
+voice--he could not answer. His head turned and he gazed furtively
+over his shoulder to the east, where his duty lay. Then of his own
+accord Chapuli stepped from the trail and began to pick his way
+soberly up the hill.
+
+From the high summit of the butte all the world lay spread out like a
+panorama,--the slopes and cañons of Bronco Mesa, picketed with giant
+_sahuaros_; the silvery course of the river flowing below; the
+unpeopled peaks and cliffs of the Superstitions; and a faint haze-like
+zephyr, floating upon the eastern horizon. And there at last the eyes
+of Rufus Hardy and Kitty Bonnair met, questioning each other, and the
+world below them took on a soft, dreamy veil of beauty.
+
+"Why, how did you come here?" he asked, looking down upon her
+wonderingly. "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 of
+her intent.
+
+"But how could you be lost," he asked again, "and travel so far? This
+is a rough country, and you got here before I did."
+
+He swung down from his horse and stood beside her, but Kitty only
+laughed mischievously and shook her head--at which, by some lover's
+magic, the dainty forget-me-nots fell from her hair in a shower of
+snowy blossoms.
+
+"I was lost," she reiterated, smiling into his eyes, and in her gaze
+Hardy could read--"without you."
+
+For a moment the stern sorrow of the night withheld him. His eyes
+narrowed, and he opened his lips to speak. Then, bowing his head, he
+knelt 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 in
+Hidden Water and talking placidly of the old days--until at last, when
+the spell of the past was on him, Kitty fell silent, waiting for him
+to speak his heart.
+
+But instantly the spell of her laughter was broken an uneasy thought
+came upon Hardy, and he glanced up at the soaring sun.
+
+"Jeff will be worried about you," he said at last. "He will think you
+are lost and give up the _rodéo_ to hunt for you. We must not stay
+here so long."
+
+He turned his head instinctively as he spoke, and Kitty knew he was
+thinking of the sheep.
+
+"Cattle and sheep--cattle and sheep," she repeated slowly. "Is there
+nothing else that counts, Rufus, in all this broad land? Must
+friendship, love, companionship, all go down before cattle and sheep?
+I never knew before what a poor creature a woman was until I came to
+Arizona."
+
+She glanced at him from beneath her drooping lashes, and saw his jaws
+set tense.
+
+"And yet only yesterday," he said, with a sombre smile, "you had
+twenty men risking their lives to give you some snake-tails for
+playthings."
+
+"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 any
+price."
+
+"Oh, Rufus," cried Kitty, turning upon him angrily, "aren't you
+ashamed? I want you to stop being jealous of all my friends. It is the
+meanest and most contemptible thing a man can do. I--I won't stand
+it!"
+
+He glanced at her again with the same set look of disapproval still
+upon his face.
+
+"Kitty," he said, "if you knew what lives some of those men lead--the
+thoughts they think, the language they speak--you--you would not--" He
+stopped, 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 go
+with--how--how else--Oh, I cannot bear to be scolded and--I only did
+it to make you jealous!" She bowed her head against her knees and
+Hardy gazed at her in awe, shame and compassion sweeping over him as
+he 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 the
+little fingers which he had so often longed to caress. But with a
+sudden wilfulness she turned her face away.
+
+"Don't you love me, Kitty?" he pleaded. "Couldn't you, if I should try
+to be good and kind? I--I don't understand women--I know I have hurt
+you--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," she
+said, in a far-away voice, not looking at him. "He must value me above
+all 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 the
+hot blood burn at his brow.
+
+"Rufus," she cried, turning upon him quickly, "_do_ you love me? Then
+take 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 of
+scorn in her eyes. But the man who had said he loved her faltered and
+looked 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 just
+wanted to show you--" She paused, and her lip curled as she gazed at
+him 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 is
+not the way of lovers.
+
+He came back slowly, leading the horse, his face very pale, his eyes
+set.
+
+"You were right," he said. "Shall we go?"
+
+There was no apology in his voice, no appeal. It had grown suddenly
+firm and resonant, and he fixed her with his great honest eyes
+steadfastly. Something in the man seemed to rise up suddenly and
+rebuke her--nay, to declare her unworthy of him. The thought of those
+two years--two years without a word--came upon Kitty and left her
+sober, filled with misgivings for the future. She cast about for some
+excuse, some reason for delay, and still those masterful eyes were
+fixed upon her--sad, wistful, yet steadfast; and like a child she
+obeyed them.
+
+It was a long ride to camp, long for both of them. When he had turned
+her 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 never
+seen before, and more than one outlaw, loping for the hills, was roped
+and thrown, and then lashed back to his place in the herd. The
+sensitive spirit of Chapuli responded like a twin being to the sudden
+madness of his master, and the lagging _rodéo_ hands were galvanized
+into action by his impetuous ardor. And at the end, when the roping
+and branding were over, Hardy rode down to the pasture for a fresh
+mount, his eyes still burning with a feverish light and his lips
+close-drawn and silent.
+
+The outfit was huddled about the fire eating greedily after the long
+day, when Creede, furtively watching his partner, saw his eyes fixed
+curiously upon some object in the outer darkness. He followed the
+glance and beheld a hound--gaunt, lame, beseeching--limping about
+among the mesquite trees which lined the edge of the flat.
+
+"There's one of Bill's dogs," he remarked sociably, speaking to the
+crowd 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 inviting
+way which is supposed to suggest feed to a dog. But Hardy rose up
+quietly from his place and went out to the dog. A moment later he
+called to Jeff and, after a hurried conference, the two of them
+brought the wanderer up to the fire.
+
+"Hey!" called Bill Lightfoot, "that ain't one of Bill's pack--that's
+old 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 see
+what's the matter with this leg."
+
+He clamped Turco between his knees and picked up his fore leg, while
+the old dog whined and licked his hands anxiously. There was a stain
+of blood from the shoulder down, and above it, cut neatly through the
+muscles, a gaping wound.
+
+"That was a thirty-thirty," said Creede grimly, and every man looked
+up. Thirty-thirty was a sinister number on the range--it was the
+calibre of a sheep-herder's carbine.
+
+"Aw, go on," scoffed Bill Lightfoot, rushing over to examine the
+wound. "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 his
+horse. He looked over his shoulder as he heaved on the cinch. "That's
+where that dust was," he said, and as the outfit stood gaping he swung
+up and was off into the darkness.
+
+"Hey, take my gun!" yelled Jeff, but the clatter of hoofs never
+faltered--he was going it blind and unarmed. Late that night another
+horseman on a flea-bitten gray dashed madly after him over the Pocket
+trail. It was Old Bill Johnson, crazed with apprehension; and behind
+him straggled his hounds, worn from their long chase after the lion,
+but following dutifully on their master's scent. The rest of the
+outfit rode over in the morning--the punchers with their pistols
+thrust into the legs of their shaps; Creede black and staring with
+anger; the judge asking a thousand unanswered questions and protesting
+against any resort to violence; the women tagging along helplessly,
+simply because they could not be left alone. And there, pouring forth
+from the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket, came the sheep, a solid phalanx,
+urged on by plunging herders and spreading out over the broad mesa
+like an invading army. Upon the peaks and ridges round about stood
+groups of men, like skirmishers--camp rustlers with their packs and
+burros; herders, whose sheep had already passed through--every man
+with his gun in his hand. The solid earth of the trail was worn down
+and stamped to dust beneath the myriad feet, rising in a cloud above
+them as they scrambled through the pass; and above all other sounds
+there 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 to
+a miner or the rumble of a waterfall to a lonely fisher; the old,
+unlistened music of their calling, above which the clamor of the world
+must fight its way. But to the cowmen it was like all hell broken
+loose, a confusion, a madness, a babel which roused every passion in
+their being and filled them with a lust to kill.
+
+Without looking to the right or to the left, Jefferson Creede fixed
+his eyes upon one man in that riot of workers and rode for him as a
+corral hand marks down a steer. It was Jasper Swope, hustling the last
+of a herd through the narrow defile, and as his Chihuahuanos caught
+sight of the burly figure bearing down upon the _padron_ they
+abandoned their work to help him. From the hill above, Jim Swope, his
+face 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 to
+take his place by Creede.
+
+In the elemental clangor of the sheep they faced each other, Creede
+towering on his horse, his face furious with rage; Swope gray with the
+dust of his driving but undaunted by the assault.
+
+"Stop where you are!" shouted Swope, holding out a warning hand as the
+cowman showed no sign of halting. But Creede came straight on, never
+flinching, until he had almost ridden him down.
+
+"You low-lived, sheep-eatin' hound," he hissed, piling in the
+wickedest of his range epithets, "you and me have had it comin' fer
+quite a while, and now I've got you. I've never yet seen a sheepman
+that would fight in the open, but you've got to or take _that_!" He
+leaned over suddenly and slapped him with his open hand, laughing
+recklessly at the Mexicans as they brandished their guns and shouted.
+
+"_Quite se, cabrones_," he jeered, sorting out the worst of his
+fighting Spanish for their benefit, "you are all gutter pups--you are
+afraid 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 on
+now! 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 for
+you?"
+
+Jasper Swope had whirled back from the blow as a rattler throws his
+coils. His gray eyes gleamed and he showed all his broken teeth as he
+spat back hate and defiance at Creede; but Jim was his elder brother
+and had bested him more than once since the days of their boyish
+quarrels. Slowly and grudgingly he made way, backing sullenly off with
+his Mexicans; and Jim stood alone, opposing his cold resolution to the
+white-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 this
+pass."
+
+"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 to
+get 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 can
+lick 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 for
+peace, "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 is
+here, 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 that
+can make me stop."
+
+He paused, and fixed his keen eyes upon Creede, searching him to the
+heart; and before that cold, remorseless gaze the fighting frenzy in
+his brain died away. Meanwhile Hardy had come up from where he had
+been turning back sheep, and as he rode in Jeff instinctively made way
+for him.
+
+"No," replied Hardy, fastening his stern eyes upon the iron visage of
+the sheepman, "not if the lives of a thousand cattle and the last
+possessions 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 honest
+cowmen into criminals. If there is anything in it you will lie to the
+assessor or rob a poor man's cabin with the best of them, but when it
+comes to your legal right to sheep us out you are all for law and
+order. Sure, you will uphold the statutes with your life! Look at
+those renegade Mexicans, every man armed by you with a rifle and a
+revolver! Is that the way to come onto another man's range? If you are
+going to sheep us out, you can try it on; but for God's sake cut it
+out about your sacred rights!"
+
+He rose up in his saddle, haranguing the assembly as he spoke, and
+once more Jim Swope felt his cause being weakened by the attacks of
+this vehement little cowman.
+
+"Well, what kin I do about it?" he cried, throwing out his hands in
+virtuous appeal. "My sheep has got to eat, hain't they?"
+
+"Sure," assented Hardy, "and so have our cattle. But I tell you what
+you can do--you can go out through that pass yonder!"
+
+He pointed at the cañon down which the sheep had come in the Fall, the
+great middle fork which led up over the Four Peaks; but the sheepman's
+only reply was a snarl of refusal.
+
+"Not if I know myself," he muttered spitefully. "How'd do, Judge!" He
+fixed his eyes eagerly upon Judge Ware, who was hastening to join in
+the 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 now
+before these witnesses, do you claim any right to the exclusive use of
+this land?"
+
+"Why, certainly not, certainly not," answered the judge warmly, "but
+at the same time I do claim an equity which rises from prior and
+undisputed possession, and which has always and ought now to protect
+my range from any outside invasion."
+
+"Very likely, very likely," remarked Swope dryly. "And now, Judge, I
+want to ask you another question before these witnesses. Did you or
+did you not authorize your superintendent and foreman to threaten and
+intimidate my men and me, with the idea of driving us off this public
+land?"
+
+"I did not," replied the judge, his mind suddenly filled with visions
+of criminal proceedings. "On the contrary, I have repeatedly warned
+them 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 systematically
+moved my herders off this range by armed violence, and your foreman
+has just now struck my brother, besides threatening to kill some of us
+if we don't turn back. I want to tell you right now, Mr. Ware, that I
+have consulted the best lawyers in this Territory as to my rights on
+public lands, and you will be held personally responsible for any acts
+of violence on the part of your employees. Now I want to ask you one
+more question: Do you deny my right to pass through this range on my
+way to the Sierra Blancas? You don't? Well then, call off these men!"
+
+He paused and jerked his thumb toward Creede and Hardy, grinning
+evilly, and as he spoke Creede crowded forward, his brow black as a
+thunder cloud.
+
+"I don't take orders from nobody," he cried vehemently, "not now, and
+never will. I've got a few hundred head of cows on this range myself
+and I intend to protect 'em if I have to kill somebody. You'll have to
+git another foreman, Judge,--I've quit."
+
+He shot a glance of pitying contempt at the man who had so stupidly
+marred their fortunes, then he turned and fixed his burning eyes upon
+his archenemy.
+
+"Jim," he said, speaking quietly at last, "my father had ten thousand
+head of cattle on this range before you sheepmen came--and that's all
+I'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 at
+the sheep; and the cowmen fell in behind him, glad of an excuse to
+retreat. What were a bunch of cowboys, armed with six-shooters, to
+half a hundred sheepmen armed with repeating rifles and automatic
+revolvers? No, it was better to let the sheep come, let them spread
+out and scatter, and then jump the herders at night, if it came
+to that. But what, reasoned the cautious ones, were a few hundred
+head of cows anyhow, in a losing fight against the law itself? What
+was a petty revenge upon some low-browed Mexican to the years of
+imprisonment in Yuma which might follow? There were some among that
+little band of cowmen who yelled for action, others who were disgusted
+enough to quit, and others yet who said nothing, riding by themselves
+or exchanging furtive glances with Creede. The Clark boys, Ben
+Reavis, and Juan Ortega--these were the men whom the _rodéo_ boss
+knew he could trust, and none of them spoke a word.
+
+Worn and haggard from his night's riding, Rufus Hardy rode along with
+Judge Ware and the ladies, explaining the situation to them. The
+sheep had come in from the far east, crossing where sheep had never
+crossed before, at the junction of Hell's Hip Pocket Creek and the
+drought-shrunk Salagua. They had poured into the Pocket in solid
+columns, sheeping it to the rocks, and had taken the pass before
+either he or Bill Johnson could get to it. All through the night the
+sheepmen had been crowding their flocks through the defile until
+there were already twenty or thirty thousand on Bronco Mesa, with
+fifty thousand to follow. Bill Johnson had shot his way through
+the jam and disappeared into the Pocket, but he could do nothing
+now--his little valley was ruined. There would not be a spear of
+grass left for his cattle, and his burros had already come out with
+the pack animals of the sheepmen. No one knew what had happened when
+he reached his home, but the Mexican herders seemed to be badly
+scared, and Johnson had probably tried to drive them out of the
+valley.
+
+All this Hardy explained in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, free from
+apprehension or excitement; he listened in respectful silence to Judge
+Ware's protests against violence and threats of instant departure; and
+even humored Kitty's curiosity by admitting that Mr. Johnson, who was
+apparently out of his head when he shot the sheep, had probably taken
+a shot or two at the herders, as well. But Lucy Ware was not deceived
+by his repose; she saw the cold light in his eyes, the careful
+avoidance of any allusion to his own actions, and the studied
+concealment of his future intent. But even then she was not prepared
+when, after supper, her father came into the ranch house and told her
+that Mr. Hardy had just resigned.
+
+"I can't imagine why he should leave me at this time," exclaimed the
+judge, 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 is
+capable of anything, I suppose. Just because he doesn't approve of my
+policies in regard to these sheep he coolly says he won't embarrass
+me further by staying in my employ! I declare, Lucy, I'm afraid I'm
+going to lose everything I have down here if both he and Creede desert
+me. Don't you think you could persuade Rufus to stay? Go out and see
+him and tell him I will consent to anything--except this _unlawful
+harrying_ of the sheep."
+
+The old judge, still perspiring with excitement, sank wearily down
+into a chair and Lucy came over and sat upon his knee.
+
+"Father," she said, "do you remember that you once told me you would
+give me this ranch if I wanted it? Well, I want it now, and perhaps if
+you 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--there
+is nothing between you and Rufus, is there?"
+
+He turned her face so that he could look into her honest eyes, but
+Lucy 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--but
+never mind, never mind, darling. I am glad at least that it is not
+with you. We must be going home soon now, anyway, and that will break
+off this--er--But I don't remember having seen them together much!"
+
+"No," said Lucy demurely, "he has been very discreet. But you haven't
+answered my question, father. Will you give me the ranch if I get
+Rufus to stay? Oh, you're a dear! Now you just leave everything in my
+hands and see what a good business woman I am!"
+
+She skipped lightly out the door and hurried over to where Hardy and
+Jefferson Creede were sitting under a tree, talking gravely together.
+They stopped as she approached and Hardy looked up a little sullenly
+from 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?" she
+asked, with her friendliest smile. "No, don't go, Mr. Creede; you are
+interested in this, too. In fact," she added mysteriously, "I need
+your assistance."
+
+A slow smile crept into the rough cowboy's eyes as he sat watching
+her.
+
+"What can I do for you?" he inquired guardedly.
+
+"Well," answered Lucy, "the situation is like this--and I'm not trying
+to rope you in on anything, as you say, so you needn't look
+suspicious. My father has become so discouraged with the way things
+are going that he has given the entire Dos S Ranch to me--if I can
+manage it. Now I know that you both have quit because you don't
+approve of my father's orders about the sheep. I don't know what your
+plans are but I want to get a new superintendent, and that's where I
+need 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 I
+want you two men to tell me before you go just what you think I ought
+to 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 you
+do about the sheep?"
+
+For a minute Creede sat silent, surveying the little lady from beneath
+his shaggy hair.
+
+"Well," he said judicially, "I think I'd do one of two things: I'd
+either marry some nice kind man whose judgment I could trust, and turn
+the job over to him,"--he glanced sideways at Hardy as he spoke,--"or
+I'd hire some real mean, plug-ugly feller to wade in and clean 'em
+out. Failin' in that, I think I'd turn the whole outfit over to Rufe
+here and go away and fergit about it."
+
+He added these last words with a frank directness which left no doubt
+as to his own convictions in the matter, and Lucy turned an inquiring
+eye upon Hardy. He was busily engaged in pounding a hole in the ground
+with a rock, and Lucy noted for the first time a trace of silver in
+his hair. The setting sun cast deep shadows in the set lines of his
+face and when he finally looked up his eyes were bloodshot and
+haggard.
+
+"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 what
+he's talking about, and I want to use my own judgment for a while. We
+won't let anything happen to your cattle, Miss Lucy, and I thank you
+very much, but I'm afraid I can't do it."
+
+He stopped, and bowed his head, hammering moodily away at his hole in
+the rocky ground.
+
+"Excuse me a minute, Miss Ware," said Creede, rising to his feet as
+the silence became oppressive. "Come over here, Rufe, I want to talk
+with you."
+
+They stood with their heads together, Jeff tapping the little man on
+the chest with every word, and still there was the same dogged
+resistance. "Well, come on and let's find out," protested Creede at
+last, 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, "and
+to protect my best interests according to his own judgment. The only
+thing I insist upon is that he leave his gun at home."
+
+"I'm sorry," said Creede briefly. "And I needed the job, too," he
+added lugubriously. "How about your foreman?" he inquired, as if
+snatching at a straw. "Same thing, eh? Well, I'll go you--next
+month."
+
+He laughed, shrugged his shoulders, and crowded his big black sombrero
+down over his eyes until it gave him a comical air of despair.
+
+"Luck's gone," he remarked, reaching parenthetically for a cigarette
+paper. "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 which
+harbored the vindictive hate of an Apache, and the restless energy of
+a Texano, there still lingered the exuberant joyousness of a boy, the
+indomitable spirit of the pioneer, resigned to any fate so long as
+there is a laugh in it. As he drifted into the crowd Lucy's heart went
+out to him; he was so big and strong and manly in this, the final
+eclipse of his waning fortunes.
+
+"Mr. Creede is a noble kind of a man, isn't he?" she said, turning to
+where Hardy was still standing. "Won't you sit down, Rufus, and let's
+talk this over for a minute. But before you decide anything, I want
+you to get a good night's sleep. You are a free man now, you know, and
+if 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 stood
+before her, swaying dizzily as he groped about for his hat, which had
+fallen from his hand. Then at last a faint smile broke through the
+drawn lines in his face.
+
+"That's right," he said, sinking down at her side, and as he settled
+back against the tree his eyes closed instantly, like a child whose
+bedtime 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't
+sheeped 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 he
+slipped slowly to the ground, fast asleep.
+
+After two days and nights of turmoil and passion his troubles were
+ended, suddenly; and as she raised him up Lucy Ware bent down quickly
+under 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 to
+death, blotting out the past and dispelling all remembrance of his
+sorrows, failed utterly to abate the fighting spirit of Jefferson
+Creede or sap the Spartan grimness of his purpose. Worn by the
+destroying anger of the previous day, thwarted and apparently
+defeated, he rose up at the first glow of dawn and set about his
+preparations with an unemotional directness which augured ill for
+Jasper Swope. Before the sun was an hour high he had the town herd on
+the trail for Bender, entrusted to the care of Bill Lightfoot and
+several others of whom he wanted to be rid. The camp was dismantled,
+the packs were loaded upon the spare horses, and the outfit was ready
+to start for Carrizo Creek before breakfast was more than finished in
+the ranch house. After a final survey to make sure that nothing had
+been overlooked in the scuffle, the _rodéo_ boss waved his hand to the
+leaders; then, as the train strung out up the cañon, he rode over to
+the house to say good-bye. The last farewell is a formality often
+dispensed with in the Far West; but in this case the boss had business
+to 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 picked
+up like a tired baby and stored away in the darkened bunk-room the
+evening before--Creede opened the door of the living-room, greeted his
+lady-love with a cheerful grin, and beckoned Miss Lucy outside by a
+backward jerk of the head.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, Miss Ware," he said, "but we're movin' camp
+this mornin' and before I go I want to tell you about them cattle I'm
+just sendin' to town. If I didn't have other business on hand I'd go
+down with you gladly and sell 'em for you, but when you git to Bender
+you 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 he
+don't give you the best market price for them cows he'll have
+to--lick--me! This is a dry year and feeders ain't much nohow, but I
+don'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 thrust
+one boot thoughtfully into the stirrup. Then, as if suddenly cognizant
+of a neglected duty, he snapped his foot out and threw the lash back
+on the ground.
+
+"I'll say good-bye to the judge," he drawled, "so's to show they ain't
+no hard feelin'. Your old man don't exactly fit in these parts," he
+observed 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 courtly
+school of the South--no allusions to the past, no references to the
+future, merely a gentlemanly expression of regret that his guest's
+visit should have been so suddenly terminated. But when he turned to
+Miss Kitty his masterful eyes began to glow and waver and he shifted
+his 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 after
+him, 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 and
+dropped his bridle rein.
+
+"Well, we've had a pretty good time together down here, hain't we?" he
+observed, twisting the fringe of his shaps and smiling at her from
+beneath his forelock. "I ain't got but a minute--and there's some
+rough work ahead, I reckon--but I jest wanted to--well, I wanted to
+give you this." He dove down into his overalls' pocket and brought up
+a nugget, worn smooth by long milling around between his spare change
+and 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 head
+to one side, ogling her roguishly.
+
+Kitty had never observed just such conduct before, and she was
+curious.
+
+"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, you
+know. 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 a
+second for her to resist, and then kissed her, suddenly and with
+masterful violence.
+
+"One more," he pleaded insistently. "No? All right then," he said,
+swinging gracefully up on his horse as she pushed him away. "I'll
+always remember that one, anyhow!"
+
+He leaned forward and Bat Wings shot away up the cañon like a charger
+that sniffs the combat, thundering out across the _parada_ grounds,
+swinging beneath the giant mesquite, and plunging down the bank that
+led to the creek. And all the time his rider sat with one hand on the
+cantle, 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 would
+always remember that kiss too, and all too late she remembered to
+become indignant. But, no one being about, she laughed low to herself
+and hurried back to the house, her eyes downcast and pensive. She had
+known many men and lovers in her time, but never a one like Jeff
+Creede.
+
+There was a sound of hasty packing in the Dos S ranch house that
+morning, and the wagon drove noisily up to the door. Rafael carried
+out the steamer trunks and luggage, the snake-skins, the smoky opals,
+the Indian baskets, the braided quirts, and all the scattered plunder
+that the cowboys had given Kitty and that she could not bear to leave
+behind. He saddled up their horses, clattering recklessly into the
+bunk-house where Hardy was sleeping in order to get his blankets, and
+still, unmindful of noise or preparation, or the friends who must say
+good-bye, he lay sprawled on the rough blankets, dead with sleep.
+
+Rafael kicked off the brake and started on his weary journey around
+Red Butte to Moreno's, which would take him the rest of the day; Judge
+Ware, possessed to get out of the country before he became _particeps
+criminis_ 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 rooms
+waiting for Rufus to wake up.
+
+"I'm ready," said Lucy at last, putting the final touches to the room
+which he had given up to her. "Are you, Kitty?"
+
+Their eyes met in an uneasy stare, each wishing the other would
+speak.
+
+"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 to
+think there is something in these jokes about Adam waiting for Eve to
+get her hat on straight. Now please come at once or we won't get to
+Moreno's in time for supper."
+
+"But, father," protested Lucy, "Kitty and I do not wish to leave
+without saying good-bye to Rufus. Would you mind--"
+
+"No, no!" exclaimed Judge Ware irritably, "if he chooses to sleep all
+day--"
+
+"But, father!" burst out Lucy, almost tearfully, "he was so tired--he
+fell asleep as soon as he sat down, and I never did get him to consent
+to be my superintendent! Don't you see--"
+
+"Well, write him a note then," directed the judge brusquely, "and
+leave it on his desk. Now, Lucy dear, really I'm getting so nervous
+I'm hardly accountable. _Please_ hurry. And, Kitty, please hurry,
+too!"
+
+Like two souls haled from the world without a word of explanation or
+confession, Kitty and Lucy both sat down under duress to pen a last
+appeal to the little man who, despite his stern disregard, somehow
+held a place in their hearts. Kitty could have wept with vexation at
+the thought of not seeing him again--and after she had brought her
+mind to forgive him, too! She wrote blindly, she knew not what,
+whether it was accusation or entreaty, and sealed the envelope with a
+bang of her tiny fist--and even then he did not awaken. Lucy wrote
+carefully, wrestling to turn the implacable one from his purpose and
+yet feeling that he would have his will. She sealed her note and put
+it upon his desk hesitatingly; then, as Kitty turned away, she
+dropped her handkerchief beside it. It was a time-worn strategy, such
+as only the innocent and guileless think of in their hour of
+adversity. When she ran back to recover it Lucy drew a dainty book
+from her bosom--Mrs. Browning's "Sonnets from the Portuguese"--and
+placed it across her note as if to save it from the wind, and between
+two leaves she slipped the forget-me-nots which he had given her at
+Hidden Water.
+
+As the thud of horses' hoofs died away silence settled down upon the
+Dos S ranch house, the sombre silence of the desert, unbroken by the
+murmur of women's voices or the echo of merry laughter, and the
+sleeping man stirred uneasily on his bed. An hour passed, and then
+from the _ramada_ there came a sound of wailing. Hardy rose up on his
+bed suddenly, startled. The memory of the past came to him vaguely,
+like fragments of an eerie dream; then the world came right and he
+found himself in the bunk-house, alone--and Tommy outside, crying as
+if for the dead. Leaping up from his blankets Hardy opened the door
+and called him in--hoarse, black, distorted, yet overflowing with love
+and affection. Poor little Tommy! He took him in his arms to comfort
+him, and bedded him down on the pillow. But when he stepped outside he
+found that his world too was vacant--the house deserted, the corrals
+empty, the _rodéo_ camp a smouldering fireplace, surrounded by a
+wilderness of tin cans.
+
+As the slow grief of the forsaken came upon him he turned and went to
+his room, where the atmosphere of womankind still lingered to suggest
+the dear hands that were gone, and suddenly his eyes leaped to the
+letters left upon the table. It was Kitty's which he opened first,
+perhaps because it was nearest; but the torrent of inconsequential
+words confused him by their unreason and he turned to Lucy's, reading
+it 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 could
+imagine the agitation in which it was written. Dear little Lucy,
+always thinking of others, always considerate, always honest and
+reasonable. If only Kitty--But no--in her own right as Queen of Love
+and of his heart, she was above all criticism and blame. It was a
+madness, deeper than his anger against the sheep, mightier than his
+fiercest resentment--he could not help it; he loved her. Changeable,
+capricious, untamed, she held him by her faults where virtues would
+hardly have sufficed in another. He had tried, and failed; so long as
+she was in the world he must love her. But what a life! He cast the
+letter from him and his heart turned to Jeff and the big fight, the
+battle that they had planned to wage together. In the rush and
+struggle 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 would
+give her life to make him happier, who had always by every act tried
+to make him forget his sorrows?
+
+For a long time he sat with his head bowed, thinking. Then he rose up
+and took down his long-barrelled Colt's, fingered it lovingly, and
+thrust it, scabbard and all, into the depths of his war bag.
+
+As he rode down the hill into the camp that afternoon Creede came out
+to meet him, and when his eyes fell upon the empty belt, he smiled
+knowingly.
+
+"Well, you woke up, did you?" he inquired, laying one hand carelessly
+on the bulge in Hardy's right shap, where modest cowboys sometimes
+secrete their guns. "Um-huh!" he grunted, slapping the left shap to
+make sure. "I suspected as much. Well, I congratulate you, supe--if my
+girl had asked me I reckon I'd've give up my gun too. But she gimme a
+kiss, 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 the
+look of incredulity on his partner's face, he slapped him on the leg
+and laughed consumedly.
+
+"Oh, you're not the only pebble on the beach," he cried. "Ump-um--there
+are 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 once
+there was no answering smile. The large gray eyes were far away and
+distant, fixed vacantly upon the dust cloud where the sheep gathered
+in the east. Then, as if dismissing some haunting vision from his
+mind, 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 Carrizo
+Creek there lie three high ridges and three broad valleys, all running
+north and south from the Peaks to Bronco Mesa--the heart of the upper
+range; and there in compact bands the invaders held their sheep. From
+the lower levels they strayed out gradually over the rocky mesa; above
+they clambered up toward the wooded peaks; but at night the sheepmen
+worked back to the three ridges and camped close together for defence.
+After many years of struggle they had at last obtained their legal
+rights--their sheep were up to the ears in grama, eating out the heart
+of the cow country--but Jeff Creede was just over the hill, and the
+Mexicans were afraid. For years now the huge form of "Grande" had
+loomed before them whenever they entered that forbidden range, and
+they had always given way before him. And now he had the little man
+Chico with him, the son of a soldier, so it was said, and a gentleman
+of _categoría_; he always carried a pistol and his eyes were stern and
+hard. What would not Chico and Grande do to them, now that they were
+like bees robbed of their long-hoarded honey, who have nothing left
+but their stings?
+
+So the word passed around amongst the herders and camp rustlers, and
+Jim and Jasp rode from one camp to the other, cursing and exhorting
+and holding them to their work. The hour of victory had come, but
+their triumph was poisoned by a haunting fear for their sheep. One
+hundred thousand sheep--five hundred thousand dollars' worth--the
+accumulation of a lifetime--and all in the hands of these cowardly
+Mexicans, not half of whom would fight! For the day or two that they
+held together they were safe, but when they spread out--and spread
+they must, to reach the western pass--then the cowmen could rush them
+at night like lions that raid a corral, scattering one band after the
+other, and the coyotes would do the rest! That was the joint in the
+armor of the sheepmen, and it robbed them of their sleep.
+
+Evening came, and the fires of the camp rustlers on the ridges lit
+up the dust cloud that hung in the east. The hateful bray of the
+sheep was hushed, at last, and the shrill yell of the coyotes rose
+from every hilltop, bidding farewell to the sun; for as vultures and
+unnumbered birds of prey hovered in the wake of barbarian armies,
+casting their dread shadows upon the living and glutting upon the
+dead, so the coyotes follow tirelessly after the sheep, gorging
+upon chance carcasses and pulling down the strays. As the wild,
+gibbering chorus rose and quavered back from the cliffs the cowmen at
+Carrizo glanced up from their supper and swore, and in the general
+preoccupation Hardy put down his plate and slipped away to the
+corral. He was sitting on the fence listening to the mad yelping of
+the coyotes and watching the shadows gather among the peaks, when
+Creede strolled over and joined him. There were times when he could
+read Hardy like a book, but at others the little man's thoughts were
+hidden, and he brooded by himself. On such occasions, after a
+sufficient interval, Jeff esteemed it his duty to break in upon
+these unprofitable ruminations and bring him back to the light. So
+he clambered up on the top log and joined in the contemplation of
+nature.
+
+"Hear them dam' coyotes," he observed sociably. "They'd cry that way
+if they'd had a chicken dinner, all around. I bet ye every one of 'em
+has got wool in his teeth, right now. Never you mind, birdie," he
+continued, apostrophizing a peculiarly shrill-voiced howler, "I'll
+give 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 moving
+a few sheep. And of course we want to gather every beef critter we
+can now, while they're fat. The sheep seem to be hugging the mountain
+pretty close. What's the matter with working the Pocket Butte
+to-morrow and while the boys are riding we'll warn all the stragglers
+down there to keep up against the hills; then as soon as we get 'em
+located we'll jump in some day and move 'em!"
+
+"Huh?" inquired Creede, shoving back his hat and staring. "Did I hear
+you say 'move 'em'? Well--er--I thought you left your gun at home," he
+suggested 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 need
+guns, anyhow. Why, I'd just as soon tackle a rattlesnake bare-handed
+as go after Jasp Swope with my six-shooter. That's just what he's
+looking for, boy, with all those thirty-thirties behind him, and he'll
+have 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'm
+talking business. Now you let me tell you something." He paused, and
+fixed his eye on the dust cloud, intently. "I've moved that many
+sheep twice," he said, throwing out his hand, "and I left my gun at
+home."
+
+"That's right," conceded Creede.
+
+"Well now, I'll tell you what I'll do," continued Hardy. "If you'll
+leave your gun at home too and stay with me on this I'll undertake to
+shoot the last sheep out through West Pass inside of a week. And the
+only chance we take is of getting shot at or arrested for assault and
+battery. The Territorial Prison end of this gun business never did
+appeal me, anyway."
+
+"No--nor me either! But what's the scheme?"
+
+The big cowboy leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing as he half
+guessed the plan.
+
+"We ride out together," said Hardy, his voice far away, as if he saw
+it in his mind's eye, "unarmed--and we notify every sheep-herder we
+see to move. If Jasp Swope or any of his men kill us while we're
+unarmed it'll be cold-blooded murder, and there'll be witnesses to
+prove it. And if the sheep don't move, _we'll move 'em_! What kind of
+a crime is that, anyway--to drive sheep off the public range? There
+isn't an officer of the law within sixty miles, anyhow; and if anybody
+pulls a gun on us we can slug him in self-defence."
+
+"Sure," agreed Creede, "but suppose one of them big-headed Chihuahua
+Mexicans should happen to shoot you?"
+
+"Well then, I'd be dead," said Hardy soberly. "But wouldn't you rather
+be dead than shut up in that hell-hole down at Yuma?"
+
+"Yes!" cried Creede, holding out his hands as if taking an oath. "I
+would, by God!"
+
+"Well, come on then!" said Hardy, and they shook hands on it like
+brothers.
+
+When the _rodéo_ outfit was gathered together in the morning Jefferson
+Creede deliberately unstrapped his cartridge belt and threw his pistol
+back onto his bed. Then he winked at his partner as if, rightly
+understood, the action was in the nature of a joke, and led the way to
+Pocket Butte.
+
+"You fellows rake the ridges to Bullpit Valley," he said, briefly
+assigning every man to his post. "Rufe 'n me'll hold 'em up for you
+about four o'clock, but don't rush the funeral--we're goin' to move a
+few sheep first."
+
+He smiled mysteriously as he spoke, staving off their pointed queries
+with 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 a
+long ridge that led down from the upper ground, and the herders
+were camped on the summit. There were four men gathered about the fire
+and as the cowboys approached three of them picked up their carbines
+and sat off to one side, fingering the locks nervously. The
+appearance of Jeff Creede spelled trouble to all sheepmen and
+there were few camps on Bronco Mesa which did not contain a herder
+who had been unceremoniously moved by him. But this time the
+fire-eating cowman rode grandly into camp without any awe-inspiring
+demonstrations 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 you
+three days to get through that pass." He stretched a heavily muscled
+arm very straight toward the notch in the western hills and turned
+abruptly away. Hardy swung soberly in behind him and the frightened
+Chihuahuanos were beginning to breathe again after their excitement
+when suddenly Jeff stopped his horse.
+
+"Say," he said, turning to the boss, "what you carryin' that cow's
+horn 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--go
+on! _I_ don't care what happens. Aw here, let me have it a minute!"
+
+He grabbed the horn away impatiently, wiped the mouthpiece with his
+sleeve, drew a long breath, and blew. A deep bass roar answered to his
+effort, a bellow such as the skin-clad hunters of antiquity sent forth
+when they wound the horn for their hounds, and the hills and valleys
+of Carrizo and the upper mesa echoed to the blast.
+
+"Say, that's great!" exclaimed the big cowboy, good-naturedly
+resisting the appeals of the herder. "I used to have one like that
+when 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 blew
+again, 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 Mexican
+herder, "remember, now--in three days!" He continued the sentence by a
+comprehensive sweep of the hand from that spot out through the
+western pass, favored each of the three Chihuahuanos with an abhorrent
+scowl, and rode slowly away down the hogback.
+
+"Notice anything funny over on that ridge?" he asked, jerking his head
+casually toward the east. "That's Swope and Co.--the Sheepmen's
+Protective Association--coming over to rescue _companero_." A line of
+rapidly moving specks proved the truth of his observation, and
+Creede's shoulders shook with laughter as he noted their killing
+pace.
+
+"I tumbled to the idee the minute I set eyes on that cow's horn," he
+said. "It's like this. Every boss herder has a horn; if he gits into
+trouble 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 over
+the top.
+
+"That's Jasp, in front," he observed impersonally. "I wouldn't mind
+ownin' that black mule of his'n, neither. We'll jest wait until they
+dip down into the cañon and then double in back of him, and scare up
+them _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 can
+run this bunch out without firin' a shot."
+
+That evening after the day's riding Creede sat down on his heels by
+the fire and heated the end of an iron rod. In his other hand he held
+a horn, knocked from the bleaching skeleton of a steer that had died
+by the water, and to its end where the tip had been sawed off he
+applied the red-hot iron, burning a hole through to the hollow
+centre.
+
+"Jim," he said, turning to one of the Clark boys, "do you want a
+little excitement to-morrow? Well then, you take this old horn and go
+play hide 'n' seek with Jasp. Keep him chasin', and while the rest of
+the boys are gatherin' cattle Rufe and me will move a few sheep."
+
+"Well, say," broke in Ben Reavis impatiently, "where do us fellers
+come in on this play? I thought there was goin' to be a few shap
+lessons and a little night work."
+
+"Well," responded the _rodéo_ boss philosophically, "any time you
+fellers want to go up against them thirty-thirties you can do so. It's
+your own funeral, and I'll promise to do the honors right. But I'm a
+law-abidin' cuss myself. I'm all the law now, ever since I talked with
+Jim 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 slow
+in the head. It's a wonder we ain't all of us makin' hat bands in
+Yuma, by this time. I used to think that if you didn't like a
+sheepman's looks the way to do was to wade in and work him over a
+little; but that's a misdemeanor, and it don't go now. It took as good
+a man as Rufe, here, to put me wise; but I leave my gun in camp after
+this. I've got them Greasers buffaloed, anyhow, and Jasp knows if he
+plugs me when I'm unarmed it'll be a sure shot for the pen. The time
+may come when guns is necessary, but I move that every man leave his
+six-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 a
+jet 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 a
+long 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 and
+Rufe."
+
+"All right," assented Reavis resignedly, "but you want to hurry up. I
+saw a cloud o' dust halfway to Hidden Water this afternoon."
+
+The next morning as the _rodéo_ outfit hustled out to pick up what
+cattle they could before they were scattered by the sheep, Jim Clark,
+tall, solemn-faced, and angular, rode by devious ways toward the
+eastern shoulder of the Four Peaks, where a distant clamor told of the
+great herds which mowed the mountain slopes like a thousand sickles.
+Having seen him well on his way Creede and Hardy galloped down the
+cañon, switched off along the hillside and, leaving their horses among
+the rocks, climbed up on a rocky butte to spy out the land below. High
+ridges and deep cañons, running down from the flanks of the Four
+Peaks, lay to the east and north and west; and to the south they
+merged into the broad expanse of Bronco Mesa.
+
+There it lay, a wilderness of little hills and valleys, flat-topped
+benches and sandy gulches threaded minutely with winding trails and
+cow paths, green with the illusion of drought-proof giant cactus and
+vivid desert bushes, one vast preserve of browse and grass from the
+Peaks to the gorge of the Salagua. Here was the last battle-ground,
+the last stand of the cowmen against the sheep, and then unless that
+formless myth, "The Government," which no man had ever seen or known,
+stepped in, there would be no more of the struggle; the green mesa
+would be stripped of its evanescent glory and the sheep would wander
+at will. But as long as there was still a chance and the cows had
+young 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 he
+had struggled so resolutely to save and saw the dust clouds of the
+sheep drifting across it, the tears came to his eyes and blinded his
+keen vision. Here at last was the end of all his struggles and all his
+dreams; another year, or two years, and the mesa would be devastated
+utterly; his cows would be hollow-flanked and gaunted; his calves
+would totter and die, their tender lips pierced with the spiny cactus
+upon which their hard-mouthed mothers starved; and all that fair land
+which he knew and loved so well would be lost to him forever. He
+raised his hand to his eyes as if shading them from the sun, and
+brushed the tears away.
+
+"Well, look at those sons o' guns hike," he said, baring his teeth
+venomously, "and every band headed for Hidden Water! Go it, you
+tarriers--and if you can't stop to eat the grass, tromple on it! But
+wait, and if I don't push in some Greaser's face to-day it'll be
+because 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 observed
+wisely. "As the old judge used to say, 'you've got to appeal to his
+better nature'--with a club."
+
+The most southerly of the seven bands was strung out in marching
+order, the goats in front, the hungriest sheep in the lead; and on
+both flanks and far behind, the groups and clusters of feeders,
+pushing out into the grassy flats and rearing up against the trees and
+bushes. Without a word to the herders Creede and Hardy took down their
+ropes and, swinging the _hondas_ upon the goats, turned the advance
+guard northwest. The main herd and the drag followed, and then the
+herders, all in a bunch for courage.
+
+"This is the last time I talk to you," said Creede, his voice stifled
+with anger. "Turn to the north, now, and keep a-goin'."
+
+He put spurs to his horse and rode west to the second herd, and by
+noon they had turned all seven toward the western pass. Every herder
+had his cow's horn and some of them were blowing continually, but no
+one answered, and a messenger was sent east for aid. They camped for
+the 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 their
+huddle and began to drift the Mexicans turned them perforce to the
+north, looking back sulkily toward the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket
+where other smokes rose against the sky. Until the sun set they
+travelled, making their three miles and more, and not until they had
+corralled their flocks for the night did Chico and Grande, the little
+and big terrors of the sheep, give way from their strenuous labors.
+
+It was two hours after dark when they rode wearily into the camp at
+Carrizo Creek. The fire was dying down to embers and the _rodéo_
+outfit, worn out, had turned in, some in the tin house, others
+outside, under the brush _ramada_ to escape the dew. No one moved as
+they approached but Creede did not scruple to wake up Jim Clark in
+order 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 them
+sheep travellin'?"
+
+"Well, some was goin' straight up over the Four Peaks and the rest was
+p'intin' west. You and your old horn--I nigh blowed my fool head off
+and never got a rise! They was all blowin' them horns over by the
+Pocket this aft."
+
+"Um," said Creede, "they was _all_ blowin', hey? And what else was
+they doin'?"
+
+"Shootin', fer further orders, and driftin' their sheep. They's about
+a hundred thousand, right over the hill."
+
+"Huh!" grunted Creede, turning to his belated dinner, "what d'ye make
+of 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. Come
+on, Rufe--d'ye want to find them sheep in the corral when you go back
+to 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, but
+search as they would they could see no signs of the sheep. The puny
+fire over which the herders had fried their bread and mutton was
+wind-blown and cold, the burros and camp rustlers were gone, and there
+was no guiding dust cloud against the sky. From the little butte where
+Creede and Hardy stood the lower mesa stretched away before them like
+a rocky, cactus-covered plain, the countless ravines and gulches
+hidden by the dead level of the benches, and all empty, lifeless,
+void. They rode for the second camp, farther to the west, and it too
+was deserted, the sheep tracks cunningly milled in order to hide the
+trail.
+
+"They're gittin' foxy," commented Creede, circling wide to catch the
+trend of their departure, "but I bet you money no bunch of Chihuahua
+Greasers can hide twenty thousand sheep in my back yard and me not
+know it. And I'll bet you further that I can find every one of them
+sheep 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 his
+partner. "I happen to know where this sheep outfit is headin' for."
+With which enigmatic remark he jerked a thumb toward Hidden Water and
+circled to the west and north. Not half an hour later he picked up a
+fresh trail, a broad path stamped hard by thousands of feet, and
+spurring recklessly along it until he sighted the herd he plunged
+helter-skelter into their midst, where they were packed like sardines
+in the broad pocket of a dry wash.
+
+"Hey there! _Whoopee--hep--hep!_" he yelled, ploughing his way into
+the pack; and Hardy swinging quickly around the flank, rushed the ruck
+of them forward in his wake. Upon the brow of the hill the boss herder
+and his helpers brandished their carbines and shouted, but their words
+were drowned in the blare and bray which rose from below. Shoot they
+dared not, for it meant the beginning of a bloody feud, and their
+warnings were unheeded in the _mêlée_. The herd was far up the wash
+and galloping wildly toward the north before the frantic Mexicans
+could catch up with it on foot, and even then they could do nothing
+but run along the wings to save themselves from a "cut." More than
+once, in the night-time, the outraged cowmen of the Four Peaks country
+had thus dashed through their bands, scattering them to the wolves and
+the coyotes, destroying a year's increase in a night, while the
+herders, with visions of shap lessons before them, fired perfunctory
+rifle shots at the moon. It was a form of reprisal that they liked
+least of all, for it meant a cut, and a cut meant sheep wandering
+aimlessly without a master until they became coyote bait--at the rate
+of five dollars a head.
+
+The _padron_ was a kind man and called them _compadres_, when he was
+pleased, 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 suddenly
+gave over their drive and rode away to the northwest the Mexican
+herders devoted all their attention to keeping the herd together,
+without trying to make any gun plays. And when the stampede was abated
+and still no help came they drifted their sheep steadily to the
+north, leaving the camp rustlers to bring up the impedimenta as best
+they could. Jasper Swope had promised to protect them whenever they
+blew their horns, but it was two days since they had seen him, and the
+two _Americanos_ had harried them like hawks.
+
+Never had armed men so lacked a leader as on that day. Their orders
+were to shoot only in self-defence; for a war was the last thing which
+the Swope brothers wanted, with their entire fortunes at stake, and no
+show of weapons could daunt the ruthless Grande and Chico. All the
+morning the cow horns bellowed and blared as, sweating and swinging
+their _hondas_, the stern-eyed _Americanos_ rushed band after band
+away. Not a word was passed--no threats, no commands, no warnings for
+the future, but like avenging devils they galloped from one herd to
+the other and back again, shoving them forward relentlessly, even in
+the heat of noon. At evening the seven bands, hopelessly mixed and
+mingled in the panic, were halfway through the long pass, and the
+herders were white with dust and running. But not until dusk gathered
+in the valleys did Creede rein in his lathered horse and turn grimly
+back to camp.
+
+His face was white and caked with dust, the dirt lay clotted in his
+beard, and only the whites of his eyes, rolling and sanguinary, gave
+evidence of his humanity; his shirt, half torn from his body by
+plunging through the cat-claws, hung limp and heavy with sweat; and
+the look of him was that of a madman, beside himself with rage. The
+dirt, the sweat, the grime, were as heavy on Hardy, and his eyes
+rolled like a negro's beneath the mask of dust, but weariness had
+overcome his madness and he leaned forward upon the horn. They glanced
+at each other indifferently and then slumped down to endure the long
+ten miles which lay between them and home. It had been a stern fight
+and the excitement had lulled their hunger, but now the old, slow pang
+gnawed 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 every
+step from weariness, and the noises of the night fell dully upon their
+jaded ears. But just as they turned into Carrizo Creek Cañon, Creede
+suddenly reined in old Bat Wings and held up his hand to Hardy.
+
+"Did you hear that?" he asked, still listening. "There! Didn't you
+hear 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 Hardy
+peevishly. "Come on, let's get back to camp."
+
+"They don't shoot in the night-time, though," grumbled Creede, leading
+off 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, waking
+up the entire outfit in his excitement.
+
+"Sheepmen," responded some sleeper briefly.
+
+"Cleanin' their guns, mebbe," suggested another, yawning. "Did you
+move 'em, Jeff?"
+
+"You betcher neck!" replied Creede promptly, "and I'm goin' back in
+the mornin', too."
+
+The morning turned black, and flushed rosy, and fell black again, but
+for once the merciless driver of men slept on, for he was over-weary.
+It was a noise, far away, plaintive, insistent, which finally brought
+him to his feet--the bleating of ewes to lambs, of lambs to mothers,
+of wethers to their fellows, beautiful in itself as the great
+elemental sounds of the earth, the abysmal roarings of winds and waves
+and waterfalls, but to the cowman hateful as the clamors of hell. As
+Creede stood in his blankets, the salt sweat of yesterday still in his
+eyes, and that accursed blat in his ears, his nerves gave way
+suddenly, and he began to rave. As the discordant babel drew nearer
+and nearer his passion rose up like a storm that has been long
+brewing, his eyes burned, his dirty face turned ghastly. Grabbing up
+his six-shooter he stood like a prophet of destruction calling down
+the wrath of God Himself, if there was a God, upon the head of every
+sheepman. But even as he cursed the first dirty brown wave spewed in
+over the ridge and swept down upon their valley. Then in a moment his
+madness overcame him and, raising his heavy pistol, he emptied it
+against them defiantly, while the resounding cliffs took up his wrath
+and hurled it back. A herder with his rifle leapt up on a distant rock
+and looked toward their camp, and at the sight the black anger of
+Jeff'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 his
+breath to aim, while the cowmen regarded him cynically, yet with a
+cold speculation in their eyes. Hardy alone sprang forward to spoil
+his aim, and for a minute they bandied words like pistol shots as they
+struggled for the gun. Then with a last wailing curse, the big cowboy
+snapped the cartridge out of his rifle and handed it over to his
+partner.
+
+"You're right," he said, "let the dastard live. But if I ever git
+another chanst at Jasp Swope I'll kill him, if I swing for it! He's
+the boy I'm lookin' for, but you see how he dodges me? I've been
+movin' his sheep for two days! He's afraid of me--he's afraid to come
+out 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. But
+don't go to shooting Mexicans off of rocks as if they were turkey
+buzzards--that's what gets people into the pen. Now, you just take my
+advice for once and wash some of that dirt off your face. You're
+locoed, man--you're not a human being--and you won't be until you wash
+up and get your belly full."
+
+Half an hour later they sat down to breakfast, the burly fighting
+animal and the man who had taught him reason; and as they ate the
+fierce anger of the cowboy passed away like mists before the morning
+sun. He heaped his plate up high and emptied it again, drinking coffee
+from his big cup, and as if ashamed of his brutishness he began
+forthwith to lay out a campaign of peace. With sheep scurrying in
+every direction across the range in the great drive that was now on
+it was no use to try to gather cows. What they had they could day-herd
+and the rest would have to wait. The thing to do now was to protect
+the feed around the water, so that the cattle would not have to travel
+so far in the heat of summer. No objection being offered he gave each
+man a watercourse to patrol, sending one over into the Pocket to see
+what had happened to Bill Johnson; and then, with his gun packed in
+his 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 hurrying
+sheep, still shimmered in its deceptive green. Not for a month had
+there been a cloud in the sky and the grass on the barren places was
+already withering in the heat, yet in the distance the greasewood and
+the _palo verdes_ and giant cactus blended into one mighty sheet of
+verdure. Only on the ground where the feed should be were there signs
+of the imminent drought; and where the sheep had crossed the ground
+lay hard and baked or scuffled into dust. In the presence of those
+swift destroyers the dreaded _año seco_ had crept in upon them
+unnoticed, but soon it would scourge the land with heat and dust and
+failing waters, and cattle lowing to be fed. And there before their
+eyes, clipping down the precious grass, tearing up the tender plants,
+shearing away the browse, moved the sheep; army after army, phalanx
+and cohort, drifting forward irresistibly, each in its cloud of dust.
+For a minute the two men sat gazing hopelessly; then Creede leaned
+forward 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 again
+apathetically to watch a band of sheep below.
+
+"Say," exclaimed Creede, his eyes beginning to burn, "d'ye notice how
+them sheep are travellin'? And look at them other bands back yonder!
+By Joe!" he cried, rising in his stirrups, "we've got 'em goin'! Look
+at 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 in
+the world has struck 'em?"
+
+He stood up straight in his saddle, swinging his head from east to
+west, but no band of horsemen met his eye. He looked again at the
+flock below him--the goats, forever in the lead, heading straight for
+the western pass; the herders swinging their carbines upon the
+drag--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 a
+sporting proposition. I'll bet you forty dollars to the price of a
+drink that old Bill Johnson has been shootin' up their camps. Will you
+go me? All right, and I'll make you a little side bet: I'll bet you
+any money that Jim Swope has lost some sheep!"
+
+He spurred his horse recklessly down the hill, grinning, and at the
+clatter of rocks the fearful herders jumped forward and raised a great
+clamor behind their sheep, whistling and clubbing their guns, but the
+heart of the monster Grande was no longer turned to wrath. He laughed
+and called out to them, leaping his horse playfully over washouts and
+waving his black hat.
+
+"_Cuidado, hombres_," he shouted, "be careful--do not hurry--look at
+the nice grass!" But despite this friendly admonition the herders
+still yelled and whistled at their sheep, jabbing them spitefully with
+the sharp muzzles of their rifles until at last, all riot and
+confusion, they fled away bleating into the west.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XVIII
+
+BAD BLOOD
+
+
+The sheep were on the run, drifting across Bronco Mesa as if the devil
+was after them, and Creede could hardly stay on his horse from
+laughing--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 the
+ranch. He spurred forward like the wind, his eyes upon the tracks, and
+when he came in sight of the house he threw down his hat and swore. Of
+all the God-forsaken places in Arizona, the Dos S Ranch was the worst.
+The earth lay bare and desolate before it; the woodpile had
+disappeared; 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 branding
+corral, stunk of sheep. Only the padlocked house had been respected,
+and that perforce, since nothing short of a sledgehammer could break
+its welded chain.
+
+Unfastening the battered door they entered the living-room which once
+had been all light and laughter. There lay the dishes all clean and
+orderly on the table, the floors swept, the beds made, some withered
+flowers on Hardy's desk.
+
+"Huh," grunted Creede, looking it over coldly, "we're on the bum, all
+right, all right, now. How long since they went away?"
+
+"'Bout a year," replied Hardy, and his partner did not contradict
+him.
+
+They cooked a hasty meal and ate it, putting the scraps in the
+frying-pan for Tommy.
+
+"Go to it, Tom," said Creede, smiling wistfully as the cat lapped away
+at the grease. "He never could git used to them skirts rustlin' round
+here, could he?" And then there was a long silence.
+
+Tommy sat up and washed his face contentedly, peering about with
+intent yellow eyes and sniffing at the countless odors with which his
+world was filled--then suddenly with a low whining growl he lashed
+across the room like a tiger and leapt up into his cat hole. This was
+a narrow tunnel, punched through the adobe wall near the door and
+boxed in with a projecting cribbing to keep out the snakes and skunks.
+Through it when his protectors were away he could escape the rush of
+pursuing coyotes, or sally forth with equal ferocity when sheep dogs
+were about. He peered out of his porthole for a moment, warily, then
+his stump tail began to twitch, he worked his hind claws into the
+wood, and leapt. A yelp of terror from the _ramada_ heralded his
+success and Creede ran like a boy to look.
+
+"He's jumped one, by Joe!" he exclaimed. "What did I tell ye--that cat
+is a holy terror on dogs!"
+
+The dog in question--a slinking, dispirited cur--wagged its tail
+apologetically from a distance, shaking its bloody ears, while Tommy
+swelled and hissed viciously at him from his stronghold. It was a
+sheep dog, part collie, part shepherd, and the rest plain yellow--a
+friendly 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 burn
+you up with a bullet!
+
+"This is what comes of leavin' your gun off," he grumbled, as he
+unbound his bed and grabbed up his pistol. But as he stepped out into
+the open to shoot, his barbarity was checked by a clatter of hoofs
+and, looking up, he saw Jasper Swope on his big black mule, ambling
+truculently 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 the
+blame pup away, then--and keep that other dog away, too, or my cat'll
+eat 'im up! Well, I notice you took the occasion to come down and
+sheep me out," he observed, as Swope pulled up before the door.
+
+"I _did_ not," retorted the sheepman promptly, but grinning
+nevertheless at the damage, "but I see some other feller has though,
+and saved me the trouble." He ran his eye approvingly over the
+devastated homestead; and then, rising in his stirrups, he plunged
+suddenly into his set speech.
+
+"I've took a lot off'n you, Jeff Creede," he shouted, swinging his
+arms wildly, "but I've got a bellyful of this night work! And I come
+down to tell you that next time you shoot up one of my camps there'll
+be 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 added
+vindictively, "and I hope to God he fixed you good and proper. Now
+what can I do for you, Mr. Swope?" he inquired, thrusting out his
+chin. "I suppose you must be hurryin' on, of course."
+
+"No!" cried Swope, slapping his saddle horn vehemently. "I come down
+here to git some satisfaction out of you! My sheep has been killed and
+my men has been intimidated on this here public range, and I want to
+tell you right now, Mr. Creede, that this funny business has got to
+stop!"
+
+"Well, don't choke!" said the cowman, fingering his gun coldly. "Go
+ahead and stop it, why don't you?"
+
+He paused, a set smile on his lips, and for a moment their eyes met in
+the baleful glare which rival wolves, the leaders of their packs,
+confer upon each other. Then Hardy stepped out into the open, holding
+up his hand for peace.
+
+"You are mistaken, Mr. Swope," he said quietly. "Jeff hasn't shot up
+any 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 any
+time."
+
+"W'y what's the matter with you?" protested Swope righteously. "You
+must have somethin' on your mind, the way you act."
+
+Then without waiting for a reply to this innuendo he turned his
+attention to Hardy.
+
+"He hain't shot up any camps," he repeated, "ner packed a gun for
+three days, hey? Now here's where I prove you a liar, Mr. Smarty. I
+seen him with my own eyes take six shots at one of my herders this
+very mornin'--_and you was there!_"
+
+He punctuated his speech by successive downward jabs of his grimy
+forefinger as if he were stabbing his adversary to the heart, and
+Hardy turned faint and sick with chagrin. Never had he hated a man as
+he hated this great, overbearing brute before him--this man-beast,
+with his hairy chest and freckled hands that clutched at him like an
+ape's. Something hidden, a demon primordial and violent, rose up in
+him against this crude barbarian with his bristling beard and gloating
+pig eyes, and he forgot everything but his own rage at being trapped.
+
+"You lie!" he cried passionately; and then in his anger he added a
+word which he had never used, a word which goes deep under the skin
+and makes men fight.
+
+For a moment the sheepman sat staring, astounded by his vehemence; but
+before he could move the sudden silence was split by the yelp of a
+dog--a wild, gibbering yelp that made them jump and bristle like
+hounds that are assailed from behind--and, mingling stridently with
+it, was the harsh snarl of a cat. There was a swift scramble in the
+dust by the door, an oath from the sheepman, and the yellow dog dashed
+away again, with Tommy at his heels.
+
+Creede was the first man to regain his nerve and, seeing his pet
+triumphant, he let out a whoop of derisive laughter.
+
+"Ah-hah-hah!" he hollered, pointing with his pistol hand, "look at
+that, will ye--_look_ at 'im--_yee-pah_--go after 'im, Tommy--we'll
+show 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 to
+his other dog, which had been standing dumbly by, and instantly he
+joined in the chase. "Sick 'em, boy, _sick 'em_!" he bellowed, urging
+him on, and before Creede could get his face straight the long, rangy
+brindle had dashed up from behind and seized Tommy by the back.
+
+"Git out o' that!" thundered the cowman; and then, without waiting on
+words, 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 been
+of the best, but Hardy did not wait to see. The brindle dog let out a
+surprised yelp and dropped. Before Creede could turn to meet his enemy
+his partner leapt in between them and with a swift blow from the
+shoulder, struck the sheepman to the ground.
+
+It was a fearful blow, such as men deal in anger without measuring
+their strength or the cost, and it landed on his jaw. Creede had seen
+men slugged before, in saloon rows and the rough fights that take
+place around a town, but never had he seen a single blow suffice--the
+man's head go back, his knees weaken, and his whole body collapse as
+if he had been shot. If he had been felled like a bull in the shambles
+that goes down in spite of his great strength, Jasper Swope could not
+have been more completely stunned. He lay sprawling, his legs turned
+under him, and the hand that grasped the six-shooter relaxed slowly
+and tumbled it into the dust.
+
+For a minute the two partners stood staring at each other, the one
+still planted firmly on his feet like a boxer, the other with his
+smoking 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, passing
+his 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 there
+was no Tommy--only a little heap of fur lying very still out in the
+open.
+
+"My God!" he cried, and leaving the man he ran out and knelt down
+beside it.
+
+"Pussy!" he whispered, feeling hopelessly for his heart; and then,
+gathering the forlorn little wisp of fur in his arms, he hurried into
+the house without a word.
+
+He was still in hiding when Jasper Swope came to and sat up, his hair
+drenched with water and matted with dirt. Staring doubtfully at the
+set face of Hardy he staggered to his feet; then the memory of the
+fight came back to him and he glared at him with a drunkard's
+insolence.
+
+"Where's my gun?" he demanded, suddenly clapping his hand upon the
+empty holster.
+
+"I'll take care of that for you," answered Hardy pointedly. "Now you
+pile onto that mule of yours and pull your freight, will you?" He led
+the black mule up close and boosted its master into the saddle, but
+Swope was not content.
+
+"Where's that dastard, Jeff Creede?" he demanded. "Well, I wanter see
+him, 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, before
+I git through with you. I've had enough of this monkey business. Now
+gimme that gun, I tell ye, or I'll come back with more of 'em and take
+it!"
+
+He raised his voice to a roar, muffled to a beast-like hoarseness by
+his swollen jaws, and the _ramada_ reverberated like a cavern as he
+bellowed out his challenge. Then the door was snatched violently open
+and Jefferson Creede stepped forth, looking black as hell itself. In
+one 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 his
+hand. "It's loaded, too," he added. "Now, you--if you've got any
+shootin' to do, go to it!"
+
+He stepped back quickly and stood ready, his masterful eyes bent upon
+his enemy in a scowl of unquenchable hate. Once before they had faced
+each other, waiting for that mysterious psychic prompting without
+which neither man nor beast can begin a fight, and Jim had stepped in
+between--but Hardy stood aside without a word. It was a show-down and,
+bulldog fighter though he was, Jasper Swope weakened. The anger of his
+enemy overcame his hostile spirit without a blow, and he turned his
+pistol away.
+
+"That's all I wanted," he said, shoving the gun sullenly into its
+holster. "They's two of you, and--"
+
+"And you're afraid," put in Creede promptly. He stood gazing at the
+downcast sheepman, his lip curling contemptuously.
+
+"I've never seen a sheepman yet," he said, "that would fight. You've
+listened to that blat until it's a part of ye; you've run with them
+Mexicans until you're kin to 'em; you're a coward, Jasp Swope, and I
+always knowed it." He paused again, his eyes glowing with the hatred
+that had overmastered his being. "My God," he said, "if I could only
+git you to fight to-day I'd give everything I've got left!"
+
+The sheepman's gaze was becoming furtive as he watched them. He
+glanced sidewise, edging away from the door; then, pricking his mule
+with his spurs, he galloped madly away, ducking his head at every jump
+as if he feared a shot.
+
+"Look at the cowardly dastard!" sneered Creede bitterly. "D'ye know
+what he would do if that was me? He'd shoot me in the back. Ah, God
+A'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--every
+dam' one of 'em--and the first dog that comes in sight of this ranch
+will stop a thirty-thirty." He stopped and turned away, cursing and
+muttering to himself.
+
+"God A'mighty," he moaned, "I can't keep _nothin'_!" And stumbling
+back into the house he slammed the door behind him.
+
+A gloom settled down over the place, a gloom that lasted for days. The
+cowboys came back from driving the town herd and, going up on the
+mesa, they gathered a few head more. Then the heat set in before its
+time and the work stopped short. For the steer that is roped and
+busted in the hot weather dies suddenly at the water; the flies buzz
+about the ears of the new-marked calves and poison them, and the
+mother cows grow gaunt and thin from overheating. Not until the long
+Summer had passed could the riding continue; the steers must be left
+to feed down the sheeped-out range; the little calves must run for
+sleepers until the fall _rodéo_. Sheep and the drought had come
+together, and the round-up was a failure. Likewise the cowmen were
+broke.
+
+As they gathered about the fire on that last night it was a silent
+company--the _rodéo_ boss the gloomiest of them all. Not since the
+death of Tommy had his eyes twinkled with the old mischief; he had no
+bets to offer, no news to volunteer; a dull, sombre abstraction lay
+upon 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 was
+dark to Creede and Bill's fresh remarks jarred on him--but Bill
+himself was happy. He was of the kind that runs by opposites, taking
+their troubles with hilarity under the impression that they are
+philosophers. His pretext for this present happiness was a professed
+interview with Kitty Bonnair on the evening that the town herd pulled
+into Moreno's. What had happened at this interview was a secret, of
+course, but it made Bill happy; and the more morose and ugly Jeff
+became about it the more it pleased Lightfoot to be gay. He sat on a
+box that night and sang _risqué_ ditties, his enormous Colt's revolver
+dangling bravely at his hip; and at last, casting his weather eye upon
+Creede, 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," remarked
+Creede, 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 and
+stalked 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 the
+chorus.
+
+              "_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 of
+the _rodéo_ boss came plunging back at him through the darkness; his
+bruising fist shot out and the frontier troubadour went sprawling
+among the pack saddles.
+
+It was the first time Creede had ever struck one of his own kind,--men
+with guns were considered dangerous,--but this time he laid on
+unmercifully.
+
+"You've had that comin' to you for quite a while, Bill Lightfoot," he
+said, striking Bill's ineffectual gun aside, "and more too. Now maybe
+you'll keep shut about 'your girl'!"
+
+He turned on his heel after administering this rebuke and went to the
+house, leaving his enemy prostrate in the dirt.
+
+"The big, hulkin' brute," blubbered Lightfoot, sitting up and
+aggrievedly feeling of his front teeth, "jumpin' on a little feller
+like 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 been
+harrowed by Lightfoot's festive ways. "He give you plenty of warnin',
+if you'd only listen. Some people have to swallow a few front teeth
+before they kin learn anythin'."
+
+"Well, what call did he have to jump on me like that?" protested
+Lightfoot. "I wasn't doin' nothin'."
+
+"No, nothin' but singin' bawdy songs about his girl," sneered Reavis
+sarcastically.
+
+"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, with
+conviction. "I'm ashamed of ye."
+
+"That's right," chimed in the Clark boys, whose sensibilities had
+likewise been harassed; and with all the world against him Bill
+Lightfoot retired in a huff to his blankets. So the _rodéo_ ended as
+it had begun, in disaster, bickering, and bad blood, and no man
+rightly knew from whence their misfortune came. Perhaps the planets in
+their spheres had cast a malign influence upon them, or maybe the bell
+mare had cast a shoe. Anyhow they had started off the wrong foot and,
+whatever the cause, the times were certainly not auspicious for
+matters of importance, love-making, or the bringing together of the
+estranged. Let whatsoever high-priced astrologer cast his horoscope
+for good, Saturn was swinging low above the earth and dealing especial
+misery to the Four Peaks; and on top of it all the word came that old
+Bill Johnson, after shooting up the sheep camps, had gone crazy and
+taken to the hills.
+
+For a week, Creede and Hardy dawdled about the place, patching up the
+gates and fences and cursing the very name of sheep. A spirit of
+unrest hovered over the place, a brooding silence which spoke only of
+Tommy and those who were gone, and the two partners eyed each other
+furtively, each deep in his own thoughts. At last when he could stand
+it 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, he
+added: "I'll send down some letters by you."
+
+Late that evening, after he had written a long letter to Lucy and a
+short one to his father, he sat at the desk where he had found their
+letters, and his thoughts turned back to Kitty. There lay the little
+book which had held their letters, just as he had thrust it aside. He
+picked it up, idly, and glanced at the title-page: "Sonnets from the
+Portuguese." How dim and far away it all seemed now, this world of the
+poets in which he had once lived and dreamed, where sweetness and
+beauty were enshrined as twin goddesses of light, and gentleness
+brooded over all her children. What a world that had been, with its
+graceful, smiling women, its refinements of thought and speech, its
+aspirations and sympathies--and Kitty! He opened the book slowly,
+wondering from whence it had come, and from the deckled leaves a
+pressed forget-me-not fell into his hand. That was all--there was no
+mark, no word, no sign but this, and as he gazed his numbed mind
+groped 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 his
+love on the mountain peak and the flowers had fallen from her
+hair--and what an inferno of strife and turmoil had followed since! He
+opened to the place where the imprint of the dainty flower lay and
+read 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 page
+after page, following the cycle of that other woman's love--a love
+which waited for years to be claimed by the master hand, never
+faltering to the end. Then impulsively he reached for a fair sheet of
+paper to begin a letter to Kitty, a letter which should breathe the
+old gentleness and love, yet "for love's sake only." But while he sat
+dreaming, thinking with what words to begin, his partner lounged in,
+and Hardy put aside his pen and waited, while the big man hung around
+and 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 picked
+up the book, griming the dainty pages as he turned them with his rough
+fingers, glancing at the headings.
+
+"Um-huh," he grunted, "'Sonnets from the Portegees,' eh? I never
+thought them Dagos could write--what I've seen of 'em was mostly
+drivin' fish-wagons or swampin' around some slaughterhouse. How does
+she go, now," he continued, as his schooling came back to him, "see
+if I can make sense out of it." He bent down and mumbled over the
+first 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 of
+some _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 of
+his dream.
+
+"Why sure, Jeff," he said, "if I can."
+
+"No, no 'ifs' and 'ands' about it!" persisted Creede. "A lucky feller
+like 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 you
+want."
+
+"Well, I want you to write me a letter," blurted out Creede. "I can
+keep a tally book and order up the grub from Bender; but, durn the
+luck, 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's
+sake, help me out on this!"
+
+He laid one hand appealingly upon his partner's shoulder, but the
+little 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 like
+that--Sal went back on me years ago. You know who I mean--Kitty
+Bonnair."
+
+"Kitty Bonnair!" Hardy had known it, but he had tried to keep her name
+unspoken. Battle as he would he could not endure to hear it, even from
+Jeff.
+
+"What do you want to tell Miss Bonnair?" he inquired, schooling his
+voice to a cold quietness.
+
+"Tell her?" echoed Creede ecstatically. "W'y, tell her I'm lonely as
+hell now she's gone--tell her--well, there's where I bog down, but I'd
+trade my best horse for another kiss like that one she give me, and
+throw in the saddle for _pelon_. Now, say, Rufe, don't leave me in a
+hole like this. You've made your winnin', and here's your nice long
+letter to Miss Lucy. My hands are as stiff as a burnt rawhide and I
+can't think out them nice things to say; but I love Kitty jest as much
+as you love Miss Lucy--mebbe more--and--and I wanter tell her so!"
+
+He ended abjectly, gazing with pleading eyes at the stubborn face of
+his 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 from
+me--women are quick that way. I'm sorry, but that's the way it
+is--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 shoved
+out the fair sheet upon which he had intended to write and rose up
+dumbly from the table.
+
+"I'm going to bed," he said, and slipped quietly out of the room. As
+he lay in his blankets he could see the gleam of light from the barred
+window and hear Jeff scraping his boots uneasily on the floor. True
+indeed, his hands were like burnt rawhide from gripping at ropes and
+irons, 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 his
+mind: Kitty smiling--or startled, perhaps--Jeff masterful, triumphant,
+laughing. Ah God, it was the same kiss she had offered him, and he had
+run away!
+
+In the morning, there was a division between them, a barrier which
+could not be overcome. Creede lingered by the door a minute,
+awkwardly, and then rode away. Hardy scraped up the greasy dishes and
+washed them moodily. Then the great silence settled down upon Hidden
+Water and he sat alone in the shadow of the _ramada_, gazing away at
+the barren hills.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XIX
+
+THE BIG DRUNK
+
+
+The sun rose clear for the hundredth time over the shoulder of the
+Four Peaks; it mounted higher, glowing with a great light, and the
+smooth round tops of the bowlders shone like half-buried skulls along
+the creek-bed; it swung gloriously up to its zenith and the earth
+palpitated with a panting heat. Summer had come, and the long days
+when the lizards crawl deep into their crevices and the cattle follow
+the scanty shade of the box cañons or gather in standing-places where
+the wind draws over the ridges and mitigates the flies. In the pasture
+at Hidden Water the horses stood head and tail together, side by side,
+each thrashing the flies from the other's face and dozing until hunger
+or thirst aroused them or perversity took them away. Against the cool
+face of the cliff the buzzards moped and stretched their dirty wings
+in squalid discomfort; the trim little sparrow-hawks gave over their
+hunting; and all the world lay tense and still. Only at the ranch
+house where Hardy kept a perfunctory watch was there any sign of
+motion or life.
+
+For two weeks now he had been alone, ever since Jeff went down to
+Bender, and with the solitary's dread of surprise he stepped out into
+the _ramada_ regularly, scanning the western trail with eyes grown
+weary of the earth's emptiness.
+
+At last as the sun sank low, throwing its fiery glare in his eyes, he
+saw the familiar figure against the sky--Creede, broad and bulky and
+topped by his enormous hat, and old Bat Wings, as raw-boned and ornery
+as ever. Never until that moment had Hardy realized how much his life
+was dependent upon this big, warm-hearted barbarian who clung to his
+native range as instinctively as a beef and yet possessed human
+attributes that would win him friends anywhere in the world. Often in
+that long two weeks he had reproached himself for abandoning Jeff in
+his love-making. What could be said for a love which made a man so
+pitiless? Was it worthy of any return? Was it, after all, a thing to
+be held so jealously to his heart, gnawing out his vitals and robbing
+him of his humanity? These and many other questions Hardy had had time
+to ask himself in his fortnight of introspection and as he stood by
+the doorway waiting he resolved to make amends. From a petty creature
+wrapped up in his own problems and prepossessions he would make
+himself over into a man worthy of the name of friend. Yet the
+consciousness of his fault lay heavy upon him and as Creede rode in he
+stood silent, waiting for him to speak. But Jeff for his part came on
+grimly, and there was a sombre glow in his eyes which told more than
+words.
+
+"Hello, sport," he said, smiling wantonly, "could you take a pore
+feller in over night?"
+
+"Sure thing, I can," responded Hardy gayly. "Where've you been all the
+time?"
+
+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 horse
+and sinking into a chair.
+
+"Well, you don't need to let that worry you," said Hardy. "I've got
+plenty. Here!" He went down into his pocket and tossed a gold piece to
+him, 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 of
+it all." He paused and regarded his partner solemnly. "I'm a miserable
+failure, 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 the
+world."
+
+He stopped and gazed at the barren land despondently, waiting to see
+if his partner would offer any protests.
+
+"Rufe," he said, at last, his voice tremulous with reproach, "if you'd
+only helped me out a little on that letter--if you'd only told me a
+few things--well, she might have let me down easy, and I could've took
+it. As it was, she soaked me."
+
+Then it was that Hardy realized the burden under which his partner was
+laboring, the grief that clutched at his heart, the fire that burned
+in 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 good
+either, does it?"
+
+He stepped over and laid his hand affectionately upon his partner's
+shoulder, but Creede hunched it off impatiently.
+
+"No," he said, slowly and deliberately, "not a dam' bit." There was no
+bitterness in his words, only an acknowledgment of the truth. "They
+was only one thing for me to do after I received that letter," he
+continued, "and I done it. I went on a hell-roarin' drunk. That's
+right. 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 a
+whisper."
+
+He sighed and glanced at his swollen knuckles, which still showed the
+marks 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, but
+I tried; and I certainly gave 'em a run for their money, while it
+lasted. If Bender don't date time from Jeff Creede's big drunk I
+miss 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 tell
+my troubles, thank God! The fellers think I'm sore over bein' sheeped
+out. 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 woke
+up it seemed a lo-ong time ago and I could look back and see jest how
+foolish I'd been. I could see how she'd jollied me up and got me
+comin', playin' me off against Bill Lightfoot; and then I could see how
+she'd tantalized me, like that mouse the cat had when you was down in
+Bender; 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 of
+a man, and shook his head gloomily.
+
+"They ain't but one girl I ever knowed," he said solemnly, "that
+wasn't stringin' me, and that was Sallie Winship. Sal liked me, dam'd
+if she didn't. She cried when she went away, but the old lady wouldn't
+stand for no bow-legged cowpuncher--and so I git euchred, every
+time."
+
+For lack of some higher consolation Hardy cooked up a big supper for
+his low-spirited partner, and after he had done the honors at the
+feast the irrepressible good health of the cowboy rose up and
+conquered his grief in spite of him. He began by telling the story of
+his orgy, which apparently had left Bender a wreck. The futile rage of
+Black Tex, the despair of the town marshal, the fight with the Big
+Man, the arrest by the entire _posse comitatus_, the good offices of
+Mr. Einstein in furnishing bail, the crying and sleeping jags--all
+were 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 his
+memory came down to date he suddenly recalled a package of letters
+that were tied up in his coat, which was still on the back of his
+saddle. He produced them forthwith and, like a hungry boy who sees
+others eat, sat down to watch Rufe read. No letters ever came for
+him--and when one did come it was bad. The first in the pack was from
+Lucy Ware and as Hardy read it his face softened, even while he knew
+that Creede was watching.
+
+"Say, she's all right, ain't she?" observed Jeff, when his partner
+looked up.
+
+"That's right," said Hardy, "and she says to take you on again as
+foreman and pay you for every day you didn't carry your gun."
+
+"No!" cried Creede, and then he laughed quietly to himself. "Does that
+include 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 before
+the Summer's over."
+
+He leaned back and stretched his powerful arms as if preparing for
+some mighty labor. "We're goin' to have a drought this Summer," he
+said impressively, "that will have the fish packin' water in canteens.
+Yes, sir, the chaser is goin' to cost more than the whiskey before
+long; and they's goin' to be some dead cows along the river. Do you
+know what Pablo Moreno is doin'? He's cuttin' brush already to feed
+his cattle. That old man is a wise _hombre_, all right, when it comes
+to weather. He's been hollerin' '_Año seco, año seco_,' for the last
+year, and now, by Joe, we've got it! They ain't hardly enough water in
+the river to make a splash, and here it's the first of June. We've
+been kinder wropt up in fightin' sheep and sech and hain't noticed how
+dry it's gittin'; but that old feller has been sittin' on top of his
+hill watchin' the clouds, and smellin' of the wind, and measurin' the
+river, and countin' his cows until he's a weather sharp. I was
+a-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 says
+to 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' to
+climb.'"
+
+"'_Stawano_,' he says, throwin' out his hands like I was a hopeless
+proposition. But all the same I think I'll go out to-morrow and cut
+down one of them _palo verdes_ like he show'd me--one of these kind
+with little leaves and short thorns--jest for an expeeriment. If
+the cattle eat it, w'y maybe I'll cut another, but I don't want to
+be goin' round stuffin' my cows full of twigs for nothin'. Let 'em
+rustle for their feed, same as I do. But honest to God, Rufe, some of
+them little runty cows that hang around the river can't hardly
+cast a shadder, they're that ganted, and calves seems to be
+gittin' kinder scarce, too. But here--git busy, now--here's a letter
+you overlooked."
+
+He pawed over the pile purposefully and thrust a pale blue envelope
+before Hardy--a letter from Kitty Bonnair. And his eyes took on a
+cold, fighting glint as he observed the fatal handwriting.
+
+"By God," he cried, "I hain't figured out yet what struck me! I never
+spoke a rough word to that girl in my life, and she certainly gimme a
+nice kiss when she went away. But jest as soon as I write her a love
+letter, w'y she--she--W'y hell, Rufe, I wouldn't talk that way to a
+sheep-herder if he didn't _know_ no better. Now you jest read
+that"--he fumbled in his pocket and slammed a crumpled letter down
+before his partner--"and tell me if I'm wrong! No, I want you to do
+it. 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 read
+it Hardy reached out suddenly and covered it with his hand.
+
+"Please don't, Jeff," he said, his face pale and drawn. "It was all my
+fault--I should have told you--but please don't read it to me. I--I
+can't stand it."
+
+"Oh, I don't know," retorted Creede coldly. "I reckon you can stand it
+if I can. Now suppose you wrote a real nice letter--the best you
+knowed how--to your girl, and she handed you somethin' like this: 'My
+dear 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 from
+his chair, "I want to tell you right now that you've got to read that
+letter or lick me--and I doubt if you can do that, the way I happen to
+be 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'm
+wrong!"
+
+He reared up his head as he spoke and Hardy saw the same fierce gleam
+in his eyes that came when he harried the sheep; but there was
+something beside that moved his heart to pity. It was the lurking
+sadness 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 one
+shall justify his torture.
+
+"All right, Jeff," he said, "I will read it--only--only don't crowd me
+for an answer."
+
+He spread the letter before him on the table and saw in a kind of haze
+the angry zigzag characters that galloped across the page, the words
+whose meaning he did not as yet catch, so swiftly did his thoughts
+rise up at sight of them. Years ago Kitty had written him a letter and
+he had read it at that same table. It had been a cruel letter, but
+unconsidered, like the tantrum of a child. Yes, he had almost
+forgotten it, but now like a sudden nightmare the old horror clutched
+at his heart. He steadied himself, and the words began to take form
+before him. Surely she would be gentle with Jeff, he was so big and
+kind. Then he read on, slowly, grasping at the meaning, and once more
+his eyes grew big with horror at her words. He finished, and bowed his
+head 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 that
+same woman's hand, a letter to him, and the writing was smooth and
+fair. Jeff had brought it to him, tied behind his saddle, and he stood
+before 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 fair
+missive--such a one as he would have died for in years gone by--and
+laid it on the fire, and when the tiny flame leaped up he dropped the
+other on it and watched them burn together.
+
+"Well, how about it?" inquired Creede, awed by the long silence, but
+the 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, drifting
+like flocks of snowy birds to their resting-place against the Peaks,
+and as the wind raged and the darkness gathered the cattle had raised
+their heads and bellowed, sniffing the wet air. In Summer the
+thunder-heads had mounted to high heaven and spread from east to west;
+the heat lightning had played along the horizon at night, restless and
+incessant; 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 who
+sought them. But all the time the water lay in black pools along the
+shrunken river, trickling among the rocks and eddying around huge
+snags of driftwood, clear, limpid, sparkling, yet always less and
+less.
+
+Where the winter floods had scoured the lowlands clear, a fuzz of baby
+trees sprang up, growing to a rank prosperity and dying suddenly
+beneath the sun. Along the river's edge little shreds of watercress
+took root and threw out sprouts and blossoms; the clean water brought
+forth snaky eel-grass and scum which fed a multitude of fishes; in the
+shadows of deep rocks the great bony-tails and Colorado River salmon
+lay in contented shoals, like hogs in wallows, but all the time the
+water grew less and less. At every shower the Indian wheat sprang up
+on 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 out
+the golden halo of their flowers until the cañons were aflame; the
+soggy _sahuaros_ drank a little at each sparse downpour and defied the
+drought; all the world of desert plants flaunted their pigmented green
+against the barren sky as if in grim contempt; but the little streams
+ran weaker and weaker, creeping along under the sand to escape the
+pitiless sun.
+
+As Creede and Hardy rode out from Hidden Water, the earth lay dead
+beneath their horses' feet--stark and naked, stripped to the rocks by
+the sheep. Even on Bronco Mesa the ground was shorn of its covering;
+the cloven hoofs of the sheep had passed over it like a scalping
+knife, tearing off the last sun-blasted fringe of grass. In open
+spaces where they had not found their way the gaunt cattle still
+curled their hungry tongues beneath the bushes and fetched out spears
+of grass, or licked the scanty Indian wheat from the earth itself.
+
+With lips as tough and leathery as their indurated faces, the hardiest
+of them worked their way into bunches of stick-cactus and _chollas_,
+breaking down the guard of seemingly impenetrable spines and munching
+on the juicy stalks; while along the ridges long-necked cows bobbed
+for the high browse which the sheep had been unable to reach.
+
+The famine was upon them; their hips stood out bony and unsightly
+above their swollen stomachs as they racked across the benches, and
+their eyes were wild and haggard. But to the eye of Creede, educated
+by long experience, they were still strong and whole. The weaklings
+were those that hung about the water, foot-sore from their long
+journeyings to the distant hills and too weary to return. At the
+spring-hole at Carrizo they found them gathered, the runts and roughs
+of the range; old cows with importunate calves bunting at their
+flaccid 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 the
+unfortunate and incapable ones, standing dead-eyed and hopeless or
+limping stiffly about.
+
+A buzzard rose lazily from a carcass as they approached, and they
+paused to note the brand. Then Creede shook his head bodingly and rode
+into the bunch by the spring. At a single glance the _rodéo_ boss
+recognized each one of them and knew from whence he came. He jumped
+his horse at a wild steer and started him toward the ridges; the cows
+with calves he rounded up more gently, turning them into the upper
+trail; the _orehannas_, poor helpless orphans that they were, followed
+hopefully, leaving one haggard-eyed old stag behind.
+
+Creede looked the retreating band over critically and shook his head
+again.
+
+"Don't like it," he observed, briefly; and then, unlocking the
+ponderous padlock that protected their cabin from hungry sheepmen, he
+went in and fetched out the axe. "Guess I'll cut a tree for that old
+stiff," he said.
+
+From his stand by the long troughs where all the mountain cattle
+watered in Summer, the disconsolate old stag watched the felling of
+the tree curiously; then after an interval of dreary contemplation, he
+racked his hide-bound skeleton over to the place and began to browse.
+Presently the rocks began to clatter on the upper trail, and an old
+cow that had been peering over the brow of the hill came back to get
+her share. Even her little calf, whose life had been cast in thorny
+ways, tried his new teeth on the tender ends and found them good. The
+_orehannas_ drifted in one after the other, and other cows with
+calves, 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 cuts
+brush, and the other works around Hidden Water. This ain't the first
+drought I've been through, not by no means, and I've learned this
+much: the Alamo can be dry as a bone and Carrizo, too, but they's
+always water here and at the home ranch. Sooner or later every cow on
+the range will be goin' to one place or the other to drink, and if we
+give '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 minute
+she's too weak to travel she gits to be a water-bum--hangs around the
+spring and drinks until she starves to death. But if you feed 'em a
+little every day they'll drift back to the ridges at night and pick up
+a 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 many
+trees as you can."
+
+"I'll go you, for a fiver," exclaimed Creede, emulously. "Next time
+Rafael 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 her
+I've traded my gun for an axe!"
+
+As Hardy turned back towards home he swung in a great circle and rode
+down the dry bed of the Alamo, where water-worn bowlders and ricks of
+mountain drift lay strewn for miles to mark the vanished stream. What
+a power it had been in its might, floating sycamores and ironwoods as
+if they were reeds, lapping high against the granite walls, moving the
+very rocks in its bed until they ground together! But now the sand lay
+dry and powdery, the willows and water-moodies were dead to the roots,
+and even the ancient cottonwoods from which it derived its name were
+dying inch by inch. A hundred years they had stood there, defying
+storm and cloudburst, but at last the drought was sucking away their
+life. On the mesa the waxy greasewood was still verdant, the gorged
+_sahuaros_ stood like great tanks, skin-tight with bitter juice, and
+all the desert trees were tipped with green; but the children of the
+river were dying for a drink.
+
+A string of cattle coming in from The Rolls stopped and stared at the
+solitary horseman, head up against the sky; then as he rode on they
+fell in behind him, travelling the deep-worn trail that led to Hidden
+Water. At the cleft-gate of the pass, still following the hard-stamped
+trail, Hardy turned aside from his course and entered, curious to see
+his garden again before it succumbed to the drought. There before him
+stood the sycamores, as green and flourishing as ever; the eagle
+soared out from his cliff; the bees zooned in their caves; and beyond
+the massive dyke that barred the way the tops of the elders waved the
+last of their creamy blossoms. In the deep pool the fish still darted
+about, and the waterfall that fed it was not diminished. The tinkle of
+its music seemed even louder, and as Hardy looked below he saw that a
+little stream led way from the pool, flowing in the trench where the
+cattle came to drink. It was a miracle, springing from the bosom of
+the earth from whence the waters come. When all the world outside lay
+dead and bare, Hidden Water flowed more freely, and its garden lived
+on untouched.
+
+Never had Hardy seen it more peaceful, and as he climbed the
+Indian steps and stood beneath the elder, where _Chupa Rosa_ had
+built 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 for
+that 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 a
+keep-sake--and then like a blow he remembered the forget-me-not! From
+that same garden he had fetched her a forget-me-not for repentance,
+and then forgotten her for Kitty. Who but Lucy could have left the
+little book of poems, or treasured a flower so long to give it back
+at parting? And yet in his madness he had forgotten her!
+
+He searched wistfully among the rocks for another forget-me-not, but
+the hot breath of the drought had killed them. As he climbed slowly
+down the stone steps he mused upon some poem to take the place of the
+flowers that were dead, but the spirit of the drought was everywhere.
+The very rocks themselves, burnt black by centuries of sun, were
+painted with Indian prayers for rain. A thousand times he had seen the
+sign, hammered into the blasted rocks--the helix, that mystic symbol
+of the ancients, a circle, ever widening, never ending,--and wondered
+at the fate of the vanished people who had prayed to the Sun for
+rain.
+
+The fragments of their sacrificial _ollas_ lay strewn among the
+bowlders, but the worshippers were dead; and now a stranger prayed to
+his own God for rain. As he sat at his desk that night writing to Lucy
+about the drought, the memory of those Indian signs came upon him
+suddenly and, seizing a fresh sheet of paper, he began to write. At
+the second stanza he paused, planned out his rhymes and hurried on
+again, but just as his poem seemed finished, he halted at the last
+line. Wrestle as he would he could not finish it--the rhymes were
+against him--it would not come right. Ah, that is what sets the artist
+apart from all the under-world of dreamers--his genius endures to the
+end; 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. How
+often 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 Hidden
+Water. The earth was dead, it gave forth nothing; the sky was clean
+and hard, without a cloud to soften its asperity. Another month and
+the cattle would die; two months and the water would fail; then in the
+last agonies of starvation and thirst the dissolution would come--the
+Four Peaks would be a desert. Old Don Pablo was right, the world was
+drying up. Chihuahua and Sonora were parched; all Arizona lay stricken
+with 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 the
+great earth that had supported its children for ages slowly dying for
+water, its deserts first, and then its rivers, and then the
+pine-topped mountains that gave the rivers birth! Yet what was there
+for a man to do but take care of his own and wait? The rest was in the
+hands of God.
+
+On the first morning that Hardy took his axe and went down to the
+river he found a single bunch of gaunted cattle standing in the shade
+of the big mesquites that grew against Lookout Point--a runty cow
+with her two-year-old and yearling, and a wobbly calf with a cactus
+joint stuck across his nose. His mother's face showed that she, too,
+had been among the _chollas_; there was cactus in her knees and long
+spines bristling from her jaws, but she could stand it, while it was a
+matter of life and death to the calf. Every time he came near his
+mother she backed away, and whenever he began to nudge for milk she
+kicked out wildly. So Hardy roped him and twitched the joint away with
+a stick; then he pulled out the thorns one by one and went about his
+work.
+
+Selecting a fine-leaved _palo verde_ that grew against the point, he
+cleared a way into its trunk and felled it down the hill. He cut a
+second and a third, and when he looked back he saw that his labor was
+appreciated; 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 axe
+continued, a band of tame cattle came stringing down the sandy
+riverbed, and before the morning was over there were ten or twenty
+derelicts and water-bums feeding along the hillside. In the afternoon
+he cut more trees along the trail to Hidden Water, and the next day
+when he went to work he found a little band of weaklings there,
+lingering expectantly in the shadow of the cañon wall. As the days
+went by more and more of them gathered about the water, the lame, the
+sick, the crippled, the discouraged, waiting for more trees to be
+felled. Then as the feed on the distant ridges grew thinner and the
+number of cut trees increased, a great band of them hung about the
+vicinity of the ranch house constantly--the herds from Hidden Water
+and 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_ stumps
+dotted the hillside, each with its top below it, stripped to the bark
+and bared of every twig. As the breathless heat of July came on, Hardy
+was up before dawn, hewing and felling, and each day the long line of
+cattle grew. They trampled at his heels like an army, gaunt,
+emaciated; mothers mooing for their calves that lay dead along the
+gulches; mountain bulls and outlaws, tamed by gnawing hunger and
+weakness, and the awful stroke of the heat. And every day other bands
+of outlaws, driven at last from their native hills, drifted in to
+swell the herd. For a month Hardy had not seen a human face, nor had
+he spoken to any living creature except Chapuli or some poor cow that
+lay dying by the water. When he was not cutting trees on the farther
+ridges, he was riding along the river, helping up those that had
+fallen 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 afire
+from thirst and the burden of bitter stalks, the wild cattle from the
+ridges would stagger down to the river and drink until their flanks
+bulged out and their bellies hung heavy with water. Then, overcome
+with fatigue and heat, they would sink down in the shade and lie
+dreaming; their limbs would stiffen and cramp beneath them until they
+could not move; and there they would lie helpless, writhing their
+scrawny necks as they struggled to get their feet under them. To these
+every day came Hardy with his rawhide _reata_. Those that he could not
+scare up he pulled up; if any had died he dragged the bodies away from
+the water; and as soon as the recent arrivals had drunk he turned them
+away, starting them on their long journey to the high ridges where the
+sheep had not taken the browse.
+
+Ah, those sheep! How many times in the fever of heat and work and
+weariness had Hardy cursed them, his tongue seeking unbidden the
+wickedest words of the range; how many times had he cursed Jim Swope,
+and Jasper Swope, the Mexicans, and all who had rushed in to help
+accomplish their ruin. And as the sun beat down and no clouds came
+into the sky he cursed himself, blindly, for all that had come to
+pass. One man--only one--at the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket, and the
+sheep might have been turned back; but he himself had seen the
+dust-cloud and let it pass--and for that the cattle died. The sheep
+were far away, feeding peacefully in mountain valleys where the pines
+roared in the wind and the nights were cool and pleasant; but if the
+rain came and young grass sprang up on Bronco Mesa they would come
+again, and take it in spite of them. Yes, even if the drought was
+broken and the cattle won back their strength, that great army would
+come down from the north once more and sheep them down to the rocks!
+But one thing Hardy promised himself--forgetting that it was the
+bootless oath of old Bill Johnson, who was crazy now and hiding in the
+hills--he would kill the first sheep that set foot on Bronco Mesa, and
+the next, as long as he could shoot; and Jasp Swope might answer as he
+would.
+
+Yet, why think of sheep and schemes of belated vengeance?--the grass
+was gone; the browse was cleaned; even the _palo verde_ trees were
+growing scarce. Day by day he must tramp farther and farther along the
+ridge, and all that patient, trusting army behind, waiting for him to
+find more trees! Already the weakest were left behind and stood along
+the trails, eying him mournfully; yet work as he would he could not
+feed the rest. There was no fine-drawn distinction now--every _palo
+verde_ on the hillside fell before his axe, whether it was fine-leaved
+and short-thorned, or rough and spiny; and the cattle ate them all.
+Mesquite and cat-claw and ironwood, tough as woven wire and barbed at
+every joint, these were all that were left except cactus and the
+armored _sahuaros_. In desperation he piled brush beneath clumps of
+fuzzy _chollas_, the thorniest cactus that grows, and burned off the
+resinous spines; but the silky bundles of stickers still lurked
+beneath 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 up
+against a rocky butte and protected by two spiny _sahuaros_ that stood
+before 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 it
+broke open like a giant melon on the jagged rocks below, the cattle
+crowded about it eagerly, sniffing at the shattered parts--and then
+the hardiest of them began suddenly to eat!
+
+On the outside the wiry spines stood in rows like two-inch knife
+blades; 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 he
+watched them feed, and, climbing higher, he felled two more of the
+desert giants, dropping them from their foothold against the butte far
+down into the rocky cañon. As they struck and burst, and the sickly
+aroma filled the air, the starved cattle, bitten with a new appetite,
+rushed forward in hordes to eat out their bitter hearts. At last, when
+the battle had seemed all but over, he had found a new food,--one that
+even Pablo Moreno had overlooked,--each plant a ton of bitter pulp and
+juice. The coarse and wiry spines, whose edges would turn an axe, were
+conquered in a moment by the fall from the precipitous cliffs. And the
+mesa was covered with them, like a forest of towering pin-cushions, as
+far as the eye could see! A great gladness came over Hardy as he saw
+the starved cattle eat, and as soon as he had felled a score or more
+he galloped up to Carrizo to tell the news to Jeff.
+
+The mesa was deserted of every living creature. There was not a snake
+track in the dust or a raven in the sky, but as he topped the brow of
+the hill and looked down into the cañon, Hardy saw a great herd of
+cattle, and Creede in the midst of them still hacking away at the
+thorny _palo verdes_. At the clatter of hoofs, the big man looked up
+from his work, wiping the sweat and grime from his brow, and his face
+was 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, and
+you can see how many cows I'm feedin'. But say," he continued, "d'ye
+think it's as hot as this down in hell? Well, if I thought for a
+minute it'd be as dry I'd take a big drink and join the church, you
+can bet money on that. What's the matter--have you got enough?"
+
+"I've got enough of cutting _palo verdes_," replied Hardy, "but you
+just lend me that axe for a minute and I'll show you something." He
+stepped to the nearest _sahuaro_ and with a few strokes felled it down
+the hill, and when Creede saw how the cattle crowded around the broken
+trunk 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's
+back, and now look at them cows eat giant cactus! There's no use
+talkin', Rufe, the feller that wears the number five hat and the
+number forty jumper ain't worth hell-room when you're around--here,
+gimme that axe!" He seized it in his thorn-scarred hands and whirled
+into 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 panting
+in the scanty shade of an ironwood.
+
+"I'm sore on myself," he said. "But that's the way it is! If I'd had
+the brains of a rabbit I'd've stopped Jasp Swope last Spring--then I
+wouldn't need to be cuttin' brush here all Summer like a Mexican
+wood-chopper. That's where we fell down--lettin' them sheep in--and
+now 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 Fall
+I'm goin' to meet Mr. Swope on the edge of my range and shoot 'im full
+of holes! Nothin' else will do, somebody has got to be _killed_ before
+this monkey business will stop! I've been makin' faces and skinnin' my
+teeth at that dastard long enough now, and I'm goin' to make him fight
+if I have to put high-life on 'im!"
+
+He stopped and looked out over the hillside where the heat quivered in
+rainbows from the rocks, and the naked _palo verdes_, stripped of
+their 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," he
+continued, "but old Bill Johnson blew in on me the other day--he's
+crazy, you know--and when I see him I knowed it! W'y, pardner, Bill is
+the most _reas-on-able_ son-of-a-gun you can imagine. You can talk
+to him by the hour, and outside of bein' a little techy he's all
+right; but the minute you mention _sheep_ to him his eye turns glassy
+and he's off. Well, that's me, too, and has been for years, only
+not quite so bad; but then, Bill is plumb sheeped out and I
+ain't--quite!"
+
+He laughed mirthlessly and filled a cigarette.
+
+"You know," he said, squinting his eyes down shrewdly, "that old
+feller ain't so durned crazy yet. He wanted some ammunition to shoot
+up sheep-camps with, but bein' a little touched, as you might say, he
+thought 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 the
+hounds--and I want to git some thirty-thirtys.' But after I'd give him
+all I could spare he goes on to explain how the sheep, not satisfied
+with eatin' 'im out of house and home, had gone and tolled all the
+lions 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 a
+live 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 could
+spare he sat down and told me how he worked it to move all them sheep
+last Spring. After he'd made his first big play and see he couldn't
+save the Pocket he went after them sheepmen systematically for his
+revenge. That thirty-thirty of his will shoot nigh onto two miles if
+you hold it right, and every time he sees a sheep-camp smoke he
+Injuned up onto some high peak and took pot-shots at it. At the
+distance he was you couldn't hear the report--and, of course, you
+couldn't _see_ smokeless powder. He says the way them Mexican herders
+took to the rocks was a caution; and when the fireworks was over they
+didn't wait for orders, jest rounded up their sheep and hiked!
+
+"And I tell you, pardner," said the big cowman impressively, "after
+thinkin' this matter over in the hot sun I've jest about decided to go
+crazy myself. Yes, sir, the next time I hear a sheep-blat on Bronco
+Mesa I'm goin' to tear my shirt gittin' to the high ground with a
+thirty-thirty; and if any one should inquire you can tell 'em that
+your pore friend's mind was deranged by cuttin' too many _palo
+verdes_." He smiled, but there was a sinister glint in his eyes; and
+as he rode home that night Hardy saw in the half-jesting words a
+portent of the never-ending struggle that would spring up if God ever
+sent the rain.
+
+On the day after the visit to Carrizo a change came over the sky; a
+haze that softened the edges of the hills rose up along the horizon,
+and the dry wind died away. As Hardy climbed along the rocky bluffs
+felling the giant _sahuaros_ down into the ravines for his cattle, the
+sweat poured from his face in a stream. A sultry heaviness hung over
+the land, and at night as he lay beneath the _ramada_ he saw the
+lightning, hundreds of miles away, twinkling and playing along the
+northern horizon. It was a sign--the promise of summer rain!
+
+In the morning a soft wind came stealing in from the west; a white
+cloud came up out of nothing and hovered against the breast of the
+Peaks; and the summer heat grew terrible. At noon the cloud turned
+black and mounted up, its fluffy summit gleaming in the light of the
+ardent sun; the wind whirled across the barren mesa, sweeping great
+clouds of dust before it, and the air grew damp and cool; then, as
+evening came on the clouds vanished suddenly and the wind died down to
+a calm. For a week the spectacle was repeated--then, at last, as if
+weary, the storm-wind refused to blow; the thunder-caps no longer
+piled up against the Peaks; only the haze endured, and the silent,
+suffocating heat.
+
+Day after day dragged by, and without thought or hope Hardy plodded
+on, felling _sahuaros_ into the cañons, his brain whirling in the
+fever of the great heat. Then one day as the sun rose higher a
+gigantic mass of thunder-clouds leapt up in the north, covering half
+the sky. The next morning they rose again, brilliant, metallic,
+radiating heat like a cone of fire. The heavens were crowned with
+sudden splendor, the gorgeous pageantry of summer clouds that rise
+rank upon rank, basking like newborn cherubim in the glorious light
+of 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 of
+the rain, another great cloud arose, piling in fluffy billows against
+the grim cliffs of the Superstitions and riding against the flying
+cohorts that reared their snowy heads in the north. The wind fell and
+all nature lay hushed and expectant, waiting for the rain. The cattle
+would not feed; the bearded ravens sat voiceless against the cliffs;
+the gaunt trees and shrubs seemed to hold up their arms--for the rain
+that did not come. For after all its pomp and mummery, its black
+mantle that covered all the sky and the bravery of its trailing
+skirts, the Storm, that rode in upon the wind like a king, slunk away
+at last like a beaten craven. Its black front melted suddenly, and its
+draggled banners, trailing across the western sky, vanished utterly in
+the kindling fires of sunset.
+
+As he lay beneath the starlit sky that night, Hardy saw a vision of
+the end, as it would come. He saw the cañons stripped clean of their
+high-standing _sahuaros_, the spring at Carrizo dry, the river
+stinking with the bodies of the dead--even Hidden Water quenched at
+last by the drought. Then a heavy sleep came upon him as he lay
+sprawling in the pitiless heat and he dreamed--dreamed of gaunt steers
+and lowing cows, and skeletons, strewn along the washes; of labor,
+never ending, and sweat, dripping from his face. He woke suddenly with
+the horror still upon him and gazed up at the sky, searching vainly
+for the stars. The night was close and black, there was a stir among
+the dead leaves as if a snake writhed past, and the wind breathed
+mysteriously through the bare trees; then a confused drumming came to
+his ears, something warm and wet splashed against his face, and into
+his outstretched hand God sent a drop of rain.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXI
+
+THE FLOOD
+
+
+The rain came to Hidden Water in great drops, warmed by the sultry
+air. At the first flurry the dust rose up like smoke, and the earth
+hissed; then as the storm burst in tropic fury the ground was struck
+flat, the dust-holes caught the rush of water and held it in sudden
+puddles 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 and
+refused to take it in--and still the rain came down in sluicing
+torrents that never stayed or slackened. The cracked dirt of the
+_ramada_ roof dissolved and fell away, and the stick frame leaked like
+a sieve. The rain wind, howling and rumbling through the framework,
+hurled the water to the very door where Hardy stood, and as it touched
+his face, a wild, animal exultation overcame him and he dashed out
+into the midst of it. God, it was good to feel the splash of rain
+again, to lean against the wind, and to smell the wet and mud! He
+wandered about through it recklessly, now bringing in his saddle and
+bedding, now going out to talk with his horse, at last simply standing
+with his hands outstretched while his whole being gloried in the
+storm.
+
+As the night wore on and the swash of water became constant, Hardy lay
+in his blankets listening to the infinite harmonies that lurk in the
+echoes of rain, listening and laughing when, out of the rumble of the
+storm, there rose the deeper thunder of running waters. Already the
+rocky slides were shedding the downpour; the draws and gulches were
+leading it into the creek. But above their gurgling murmur there came
+a hoarser roar that shook the ground, reverberating through the damp
+air like the diapason of some mighty storm-piece. At daybreak he
+hurried up the cañon to find its source, plunging along through the
+rain until, on the edge of the bluff that looked out up the Alamo, he
+halted, astounded at the spectacle. From its cleft gate Hidden Water,
+once so quiet and peaceful, was now vomiting forth mud, rocks, and
+foaming waters in one mad torrent; it overleapt the creek, piling up
+its debris in a solid dam that stretched from bank to bank, while from
+its lower side a great sluiceway of yellow water spilled down into the
+broad 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 if
+seeking to override its dam, yet held back by the torrent of sand and
+water that Hidden Water threw across its path. For an hour they fought
+each other, the Alamo striving vainly to claim its ancient bed, Hidden
+Water piling higher its hurtling barrier; then a louder roar
+reverberated through the valley and a great wall of dancing water
+swept down the cañon and surged into the placid lake. On its breast it
+bore brush and sticks, and trees that waved their trunks in the air
+like the arms of some devouring monster as they swooped down upon the
+dam. At last the belated waters from above had come, the outpourings
+of a hundred mountain creeks that had belched forth into the Alamo
+like summer cloudbursts. The forefront of the mighty storm-crest
+lapped over the presumptuous barrier in one hissing, high-flung
+waterfall; then with a final roar the dam went out and, as the
+bowlders groaned and rumbled beneath the flood, the Alamo overleapt
+them and thundered on.
+
+A sudden sea of yellow water spread out over the lower valley, trees
+bent and crashed beneath the weight of drift, the pasture fence ducked
+under and was gone. Still irked by its narrow bed the Alamo swung away
+from the rock-bound bench where the ranch house stood and, uprooting
+everything before it, ploughed a new channel to the river. As it
+swirled past, Hardy beheld a tangled wreckage of cottonwoods and
+sycamores, their tops killed by the drought, hurried away on this
+overplus of waters; the bare limbs of _palo verdes_, felled by his own
+axe; and sun-dried skeletons of cattle, light as cork, dancing and
+bobbing as they drifted past the ranch.
+
+The drought was broken, and as the rain poured down it washed away all
+token of the past. Henceforward there would be no sign to move the
+uneasy spirit; no ghastly relic, hinting that God had once forgotten
+them; only the water-scarred gulches and cañons, and the ricks of
+driftwood, piled high along the valleys in memory of the flood. All
+day 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 when
+at last in the dead of night the storm-crest of the Salagua burst
+forth, raging from its long jostling against chasm walls, a boom like
+a 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 and
+smiling, making a diamond of every dew-drop. Then once more the cattle
+gathered about the house, waiting to be fed, and Hardy went out as
+before to cut _sahuaros_. On the second day the creek went down and
+the cattle from the other bank came across, lowing for their share.
+But on the third day, when the sprouts began to show on the twining
+stick-cactus, the great herd that had dogged his steps for months left
+the bitter _sahuaros_ and scattered across the mesa like children on a
+picnic, nipping eagerly at every shoot.
+
+In a week the flowers were up and every bush was radiant with new
+growth. The grass crept out in level places, and the flats in the
+valley turned green, but the broad expanse of Bronco Mesa still lay
+half-barren from paucity of seeds. Where the earth had been torn up
+and trampled by the sheep the flood had seized upon both soil and seed
+and carried them away, leaving nothing but gravel and broken rocks;
+the sheep-trails had turned to trenches, the washes to gulches, the
+gulches to ravines; the whole mesa was criss-crossed with tiny gullies
+where the water had hurried away--but every tree and bush was in its
+glory, clothed from top to bottom in flaunting green. Within a week
+the cattle were back on their old ranges, all that were left from
+famine and drought. Some there were that died in the midst of plenty,
+too weak to regain their strength; others fell sick from overeating
+and lost their hard-earned lives; mothers remembered calves that were
+lost and bellowed mournfully among the hills. But as rain followed
+rain and the grass matured a great peace settled down upon the land;
+the cows grew round-bellied and sleepy-eyed, the bulls began to roar
+along the ridges, and the Four Peaks cattlemen rode forth from their
+mountain valleys to see how their neighbors had fared.
+
+They were a hard-looking bunch of men when they gathered at the Dos S
+Ranch to plan for the fall _rodéo_. Heat and the long drought had
+lined their faces deep, their hands were worn and crabbed from months
+of cutting brush, and upon them all was the sense of bitter defeat.
+There would be no branding in the pens that Fall--the spring calves
+were all dead; nor was there any use in gathering beef steers that
+were sure to run short weight; there was nothing to do, in fact, but
+count up their losses and organize against the sheep. It had been a
+hard Summer, but it had taught them that they must stand together or
+they were lost. There was no one now who talked of waiting for Forest
+Reserves, or of diplomacy and peace--every man was for war, and war
+from the jump--and Jefferson Creede took the lead.
+
+"Fellers," he said, after each man had had his say, "there's only one
+way to stop them sheep, and that is to stop the first band. Never mind
+the man--dam' a herder, you can buy one for twenty dollars a
+month--_git the sheep_! Now suppose we stompede the first bunch that
+comes on our range and scatter 'em to hell--that's _fif-teen thousand
+dol-lars gone_! God A'mighty, boys, think of losin' that much real
+money 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 his
+voice to a confidential whisper, "he'd go round.
+
+"Well, now, what ye goin' to do?" he continued, a crafty gleam coming
+into his eye. "Are we goin' to foller some cow's tail around until
+they jump us again? Are we goin' to leave Rufe here, to patrol a
+hundred miles of range lone-handed? Not on your life--not me! We're
+goin' to ride this range by day's works, fellers, and the first bunch
+of sheep we find we're goin' to scatter 'em like shootin' stars--and
+if any man sees Jasp Swope I'll jest ask him to let me know. Is it a
+go? 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 the
+Alamo, over the Juate, or around between the Peaks. Well, the whole
+caboodle of us will camp up on the Alamo somewhere, and we'll jest
+naturally ride them three ridges night and day. I'm goin' to ask one
+of you fellers to ride away up north and foller them sheepmen down, so
+they can't come a circumbendibus on us again. I'm goin' to give 'em
+fair warnin' to keep off of our upper range, and then the first
+wool-pullin' sheep-herder that sneaks in on Bronco Mesa is goin' to
+git 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 on
+his 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' in
+on our range, and see if he won't go around. There's only one thing
+that I ask of you fellers--when the time comes, for God's sake _stick
+together_!"
+
+The time came in late October, when the sheep were on The Rolls. In
+orderly battalions they drifted past, herd after herd, until there
+were ten in sight. If any sheepman resented the silent sentinels that
+rode along the rim he made no demonstration of the fact--and yet, for
+some reason every herd sooner or later wandered around until it
+fetched up against the dead line. There were fuzzy _chollas_ farther
+out that got caught in the long wool and hurt the shearers' hands; it
+was better to camp along the Alamo, where there was water for their
+stock--so the simple-minded herders said, trying to carry off their
+bluff; 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 and
+showing 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 had
+trouble if they could avoid it, and then only to gain a point. But it
+was this same far-seeing policy which, even in a good year when there
+was feed everywhere, would not permit them to spare the upper range.
+For two seasons with great toil and danger they had fought their way
+up onto Bronco Mesa and established their right to graze there--to go
+around 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 to
+brand in the pens--every man was riding and riding hard. There was
+wood on every peak for signal fires and the main camp was established
+on the high ridge of the Juate, looking north and south and west. When
+that signal rose up against the sky--whether it was a smoke by day or
+a fire by night--every man was to quit his post and ride to harry the
+first herd. Wherever or however it came in, that herd was to be
+destroyed, not by violence nor by any overt act, but by the sheepmen's
+own methods--strategy and stealth.
+
+For once there was no loose joint in the cordon of the cowmen's
+defence. From the rim of the Mogollons to the borders of Bronco Mesa
+the broad trail of the sheep was marked and noted; their shiftings and
+doublings were followed and observed; the bitterness of Tonto cowmen,
+crazy over their wrongs, was poured into ears that had already
+listened to the woes of Pleasant Valley. When at last Jasper Swope's
+boss herder, Juan Alvarez, the same man-killing Mexican that Jeff
+Creede had fought two years before, turned suddenly aside and struck
+into the old Shep Thomas trail that comes out into the deep crotch
+between the Peaks, a horseman in _chaparejos_ rode on before him,
+spurring madly to light the signal fires. That night a fire blazed up
+from the shoulder of the western mountain and was answered from the
+Juate. At dawn ten men were in the saddle, riding swiftly, with
+Jefferson Creede at their head.
+
+It was like an open book to the cowmen now, that gathering of the
+sheep along the Alamo--a ruse, a feint to draw them away from the
+Peaks while the blow was struck from behind. Only one man was left to
+guard that threatened border--Rufus Hardy, the man of peace, who had
+turned over his pistol to the boss. It was a bitter moment for him
+when he saw the boys start out on this illicit adventure; but for once
+he restrained himself and let it pass. The war would not be settled at
+a blow.
+
+At the shoulder of the Peak the posse of cowmen found Jim Clark, his
+shaps frayed and his hat slouched to a shapeless mass from long
+beating through the brush, and followed in his lead to a pocket
+valley, tucked away among the cedars, where they threw off their packs
+and camped while Jim and Creede went forward to investigate. It was a
+rough place, that crotch between the Peaks, and Shep Thomas had cut
+his way through chaparral that stood horse-high before he won the
+southern slope. To the north the brush covered all the ridges in a
+dense thicket, and it was there that the cow camp was hid; but on the
+southern slope, where the sun had baked out the soil, the mountain
+side stretched away bare and rocky, broken by innumerable ravines
+which came together in a _redondo_ or rounded valley and then plunged
+abruptly into the narrow defile of a box cañon. This was the middle
+fork, down which Shep Thomas had made his triumphal march the year
+before, and down which Juan Alvarez would undoubtedly march again.
+
+Never but once had the sheep been in that broad valley, and the heavy
+rains had brought out long tufts of grama grass from the bunchy roots
+along the hillsides. As Creede and Jim Clark crept up over the brow of
+the western ridge and looked down upon it they beheld a herd of forty
+or fifty wild horses, grazing contentedly along the opposite hillside;
+and far below, where the valley opened out into the _redondo_, they
+saw a band of their own tame horses feeding. Working in from either
+side--the wild horses from the north, where they had retreated to
+escape the drought; the range animals from the south, where the sheep
+had fed off the best grass--they had made the broad mountain valley a
+rendezvous, little suspecting the enemy that was creeping in upon
+their paradise. Already the distant bleating of the sheep was in the
+air; a sheepman rode up to the summit, looked over at the promised
+land and darted back, and as the first struggling mass of leaders
+poured out from the cut trail and drifted down into the valley the
+wild stallions shook out their manes in alarm and trotted farther
+away.
+
+A second band of outlaws, unseen before, came galloping along the
+western mountain side, snorting at the clangor and the rank smell of
+the sheep, and Creede eyed them with professional interest as the
+leaders trotted past. Many times in the old days he had followed along
+those same ridges, rounding up the wild horses and sending them
+dashing down the cañon, so that Hardy could rush out from his hiding
+place 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 the
+rest go charging down the box cañon and out the other end onto Bronco
+Mesa.
+
+It was still early in the morning when Juan Alvarez rode down the pass
+and invaded the forbidden land. He had the name of a bad _hombre_,
+this boss herder of Jasper Swope, the kind that cuts notches on his
+rifle stock. Only one man had ever made Juan eat dirt, and that man
+now watched him from the high rocks with eyes that followed every move
+with the unblinking intentness of a mountain lion.
+
+"Uhr-r! Laugh, you son of a goat," growled Creede, as the big Mexican
+pulled up his horse and placed one hand complacently on his hip.
+"Sure, make yourself at home," he muttered, smiling as his enemy
+drifted his sheep confidently down into the _redondo_, "you're goin'
+jest where I want ye. Come sundown and we'll go through you like a
+house afire. If he beds in the _redondo_ let's shoot 'em into that box
+cañon, Jim," proposed the big cowman, turning to his partner, "and
+when they come out the other end all hell wouldn't stop 'em--they'll
+go forty ways for Sunday."
+
+"Suits me," replied Jim, "but say, what's the matter with roundin' up
+some of them horses and sendin' 'em in ahead? That boss Mexican is
+goin' to take a shot at some of us fellers if we do the work
+ourselves."
+
+"That's right, Jim," said Creede, squinting shrewdly at the three
+armed 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 your
+horses to it? Them herders will shoot off their guns and turn 'em
+back."
+
+"Well, what's the matter with usin' our tame horses for a hold-up herd
+and then sendin' the whole bunch through together? They'll strike for
+the 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 in
+the _redondo_ he drifted them up on the mountain side, where he could
+overlook the country.
+
+"Well, I'll fix you yet," observed Creede, and leaving Jim to watch he
+scuttled down to his horse and rode madly back to camp.
+
+That afternoon as Juan Alvarez stood guard upon a hill he saw, far off
+to the west, four horsemen, riding slowly across the mesa. Instantly
+he whistled to his herders, waving his arms and pointing, and in a
+panic of apprehension they circled around their sheep, crouching low
+and punching them along until the herd was out of sight. And still the
+four horsemen rode on, drawing nearer, but passing to the south. But
+the sheep, disturbed and separated by the change, now set up a
+plaintive bleating, and the boss herder, never suspecting the trap
+that was being laid for him, scrambled quickly down from his lookout
+and drove them into the only available hiding-place--the box cañon.
+Many years in the sheep business had taught him into what small
+compass a band of sheep can be pressed, and he knew that, once thrown
+together in the dark cañon, they would stop their telltale blatting
+and go to sleep. Leaving his herders to hold them there he climbed
+back up to his peak and beheld the cowboys in the near distance, but
+still riding east.
+
+An hour passed and the sheep had bedded together in silence, each
+standing with his head under another's belly, as is their wont, when
+the four horsemen, headed by Jeff Creede himself, appeared suddenly on
+the distant mountain side, riding hard along the slope. Galloping
+ahead of them in an avalanche of rocks was the band of loose horses
+that Alvarez had seen in the _redondo_ that morning, and with the
+instinct of their kind they were making for their old stamping
+ground.
+
+Once more the sheepman leaped up from his place and scampered down the
+hill to his herd, rounding up his pack animals as he ran. With mad
+haste he shooed them into the dark mouth of the cañon, and then
+hurried in after them like a badger that, hearing the sound of
+pursuers, backs into some neighboring hole until nothing is visible
+but teeth and claws. So far the boss herder had reasoned well. His
+sheep were safe behind him and his back was against a rock; a hundred
+men could not dislodge him from his position if it ever came to a
+fight; but he had not reckoned upon the devilish cunning of
+horse-taming Jeff Creede. Many a time in driving outlaws to the river
+he had employed that same ruse--showing himself casually in the
+distance and working closer as they edged away until he had gained his
+end.
+
+The sun was setting when Creede and his cowboys came clattering down
+the mountain from the east and spurred across the _redondo_, whooping
+and yelling as they rounded up their stock. For half an hour they rode
+and hollered and swore, apparently oblivious of the filigree of sheep
+tracks with which the ground was stamped; then as the _remuda_ quieted
+down they circled slowly around their captives, swinging their
+wide-looped ropes and waiting for the grand stampede.
+
+The dusk was beginning to gather in the low valley and the weird
+evensong of the coyotes was at its height when suddenly from the north
+there came a rumble, as if a storm gathered above the mountain; then
+with a roar and the thunder of distant hoofs, the crashing of brush
+and the nearer click of feet against the rocks a torrent of wild
+horses poured over the summit of the pass and swept down into the
+upper valley like an avalanche. Instantly Creede and his cowboys
+scattered, spurring out on either wing to turn them fair for the box
+cañon, and the tame horses, left suddenly to their own devices, stood
+huddled together in the middle of the _redondo_, fascinated by the
+swift approach of the outlaws. Down the middle of the broad valley
+they came, flying like the wind before their pursuers; at sight of
+Creede and his cowboys and the familiar hold-up herd they swerved and
+slackened their pace; then as the half-circle of yelling cowmen closed
+in from behind they turned and rushed straight for the box cañon,
+their flint-like feet striking like whetted knives as they poured into
+the rocky pass. Catching the contagion of the flight the tame horses
+joined in of their own accord, and a howl of exultation went up from
+the Four Peaks cowmen as they rushed in to complete the overthrow. In
+one mad whirl they mingled--wild horses and tame, and wilder riders
+behind; and before that irresistible onslaught Juan Alvarez and his
+herders could only leap up and cling to the rocky cliffs like bats.
+And the sheep! A minute after, there were no sheep. Those that were
+not down were gone--scattered to the winds, lost, annihilated!
+
+Seized by the mad contagion, the cowboys themselves joined in the
+awful rout, spurring through the dark cañon like devils let loose from
+hell. There was only one who kept his head and waited, and that was
+Jefferson Creede. Just as the last wild rider flashed around the
+corner he jumped his horse into the cañon and, looking around, caught
+sight of Juan Alvarez, half-distraught, crouching like a monkey upon a
+narrow 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 and
+round 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!" added
+Creede, and then, flashing his teeth in a hectoring laugh, he put
+spurs to his horse and went thundering after his fellows.
+
+Not till that moment did the evil-eyed Juan Alvarez sense the trick
+that had been played upon him.
+
+"_Cabrone!_" he screamed, and whipping out his pistol he emptied it
+after Creede, but the bullets spattered harmlessly against the rocks.
+
+Early the next morning Jefferson Creede rode soberly along the western
+rim of Bronco Mesa, his huge form silhouetted against the sky, gazing
+down upon the sheep camps that lay along the Alamo; and the
+simple-minded Mexicans looked up at him in awe. But when the recreant
+herders of Juan Alvarez came skulking across the mesa and told the
+story of the stampede, a sudden panic broke out that spread like
+wildfire from camp to camp. Orders or no orders, the timid Mexicans
+threw the sawhorses onto their burros, packed up their blankets and
+moved, driving their bawling sheep far out over The Rolls, where
+before the _chollas_ had seemed so bad. It was as if they had passed
+every day beneath some rock lying above the trail, until, looking up,
+they saw that it was a lion, crouching to make his spring. For years
+they had gazed in wonder at the rage and violence of Grande Creede,
+marvelling that the _padron_ could stand against it; but now suddenly
+the 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; but
+they who by some miracle had escaped, would flee while there was yet
+time.
+
+For two days Creede rode along the rim of Bronco Mesa--that dead line
+which at last the sheepmen had come to respect,--and when at last he
+sighted Jim Swope coming up from Hidden Water with two men who might
+be officers of the law he laughed and went to meet them. Year in and
+year out Jim Swope had been talking law--law; now at last they would
+see this law, and find out what it could do. One of the men with Swope
+was a deputy sheriff, Creede could tell that by his star; but the
+other man might be almost anything--a little fat man with a pointed
+beard and congress shoes; a lawyer, perhaps, or maybe some town
+detective.
+
+"Is this Mr. Creede?" inquired the deputy, casually flashing his star
+as 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, "I
+come up here to look into the killing of Juan Alvarez, a Mexican
+sheep-herder."
+
+"The killin'?" echoed Creede, astounded.
+
+"That's right," snapped the deputy sheriff, trying to get the jump on
+him. "What do you know about it?"
+
+"Who--me?" answered the cowman, his eyes growing big and earnest as he
+grasped the news. "Not a thing. The last time I saw Juan Alvarez he
+was standin' on a ledge of rocks way over yonder in the middle
+fork--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 at
+the time?"
+
+"Well, I'll tell ye," began Creede circumstantially. "Me and Ben
+Reavis and a couple of the boys had gone over toward the Pocket to
+catch up our horses. They turned back on us and finally we run 'em
+into 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 we
+never 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 we
+wanted, here comes a big band of wild horses that the other boys had
+scared 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 and
+let 'em pass, and we did it, dam' quick. Well, sir, that bunch of wild
+horses went by us like the mill tails of hell, and of course our
+_remuda_ stompeded after 'em and the whole outfit went bilin' through
+the box cañon, where it turned out Juan Alvarez had been hidin' his
+sheep. That's all I know about it."
+
+"Well, did you have any trouble of any kind with this deceased
+Mexican, Mr. Creede? Of course you don't need to answer that if it
+will incriminate you, but I just wanted to know, you understand."
+
+"Oh, that's all right," responded the cowman, waving the suggestion
+aside with airy unconcern. "This is the first I've heard of any
+killin', but bein' as you're an officer I might as well come through
+with what I know. I don't deny for a minute that I've had trouble with
+Juan. I had a fist fight with him a couple of years ago, and I licked
+him, too--but seein' him up on that ledge of rocks when I rode through
+after my horses was certainly one of the big surprises of my life."
+
+"Uh, you was surprised, was ye?" snarled Swope, who had been glowering
+at him malignantly through his long recital. "Mebbe--"
+
+"Yes, I was surprised!" retorted Creede angrily. "And I was like the
+man that received the gold-headed cane--I was _pleased_, too, if
+that's what you're drivin' at. I don't doubt you and Jasp sent that
+dam' Greaser in there to sheep us out, and if he got killed you've got
+yourself to thank for it. He had no business in there, in the first
+place, and in the second place, I gave you fair warnin' to keep 'im
+out."
+
+"You hear that, Mr. Officer?" cried the sheepman. "He admits making
+threats against the deceased; he--"
+
+"Just a moment, just a moment, Mr. Swope," interposed the deputy
+sheriff 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 the
+coroner; we've got the body down at the ranch house, and we may want
+to suppeenie you for the inquest."
+
+"Glad to meet you, sir," said Creede politely. "Well, all they was to
+it 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, beside
+himself with rage. "_Listen_ to him! He said that was all right, did
+he? 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 before
+I 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 the
+deputy noncommittally, "and let's get through with this as soon as
+possible. Now, Mr. Creede, you seem to be willing to talk about this
+matter. I understand that there was some shots fired at the time you
+speak of."
+
+"Sure thing," replied Creede. "Juan took a couple of shots at me as I
+was goin' down the cañon. He looked so dam' funny, sittin' up on that
+ledge like a monkey-faced owl, that I couldn't help laughin', and of
+course it riled him some. But that's all right--I wouldn't hold it up
+against a dead man."
+
+The deputy sheriff laughed in spite of himself, and the coroner
+chuckled, too. The death of a Mexican sheep-herder was not a very
+sombre 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 the
+deputy turned back toward the ranch.
+
+"The deceased was shot with a thirty-thirty," observed the coroner
+briefly, and there the matter was dropped.
+
+"Umm, a thirty-thirty," muttered Creede, "now who in--" He paused and
+nodded his head, and a look of infinite cunning came into his face as
+he glanced over his shoulder at the retreating posse.
+
+"Bill Johnson!" he said, and then he laughed--but it was not a
+pleasant laugh.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXII
+
+PORTENTS OF WAR
+
+
+There were signs of impending war on Bronco Mesa. As God sent the rain
+and the flowers and grass sprang up they grappled with each other like
+murderers, twining root about root for the water, fighting upward for
+the light--and when it was over the strongest had won. Every tree and
+plant on that broad range was barbed and fanged against assault; every
+creature that could not flee was armed for its own defence; it was a
+land of war, where the strongest always won. What need was there for
+words? Juan Alvarez was dead, shot from some distant peak while
+rounding up his sheep--and his sheep, too, were dead.
+
+They buried the boss herder under a pile of rocks on Lookout Point and
+planted a cross above him, not for its Christian significance, nor yet
+because Juan was a good Catholic, but for the Mexicans to look at in
+the Spring, when the sheep should come to cross. Jim Swope attended to
+this himself, after the coroner had given over the body, and for a
+parting word he cursed Jeff Creede.
+
+Then for a day the world took notice of their struggle--the great
+outside world that had left them to fight it out. Three thousand head
+of sheep had been killed; mutton enough to feed a great city for a day
+had been destroyed--and all in a quarrel over public land. The word
+crept back to Washington, stripped to the bare facts--three thousand
+sheep and their herder killed by cattlemen on the proposed Salagua
+Reserve--and once more the question rose, Why was not that Salagua
+Reserve proclaimed? No one answered. There was another sheep and
+cattle war going on up in Wyoming, and the same question was being
+asked about other proposed reserves. But when Congress convened in
+December the facts began to sift out: there was a combination of
+railroad and lumber interests, big cattlemen, sheepmen, and
+"land-grabbers" that was "against any interference on the part of the
+Federal Government," and "opposed to any change of existing laws and
+customs as to the grazing of live stock upon the public domain." This
+anomalous organization was fighting, and for years had been fighting,
+the policy of the administration to create forest reserves and protect
+the public land; and, by alliances with other anti-administration
+forces in the East, had the President and his forester at their mercy.
+There would be no forestry legislation that Winter--so the newspapers
+said. But that made no difference to the Four Peaks country.
+
+Only faint echoes of the battle at Washington reached the cowmen's
+ears, and they no longer gave them any heed. For years they had been
+tolled along by false hopes; they had talked eagerly of Forest Rangers
+to draw two-mile circles around their poor ranches and protect them
+from the sheep; they had longed to lease the range, to pay grazing
+fees, anything for protection. But now they had struck the first blow
+for themselves, and behold, on the instant the sheep went round, the
+grass crept back onto the scarred mesa, the cattle grew fat on the
+range! Juan Alvarez, to be sure, was dead; but their hands were clean,
+let the sheepmen say what they would. What were a few sheep carcasses
+up on the high mesa? They only matched the cattle that had died off
+during the drought. When they met a sheep-herder now he gave them the
+trail.
+
+Tucked away in a far corner of the Territory, without money, friends,
+or influence, there was nothing for it but to fight. All nature seemed
+conspiring to encourage them in their adventure--the Winter came on
+early, with heavy rains; the grass took root again among the barren
+rocks 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 had
+depleted the ranges; the world's supply of beef had been cut down;
+feeders were scarce in the alfalfa fields of Moroni; fat cattle were
+called for from Kansas City to Los Angeles; and suddenly the despised
+cowmen of the Four Peaks saw before them the great vision which always
+hangs at the end of the rainbow in Arizona--a pot of gold, _if the
+sheep went around_. And what would make the sheep go around? Nothing
+but a thirty-thirty.
+
+The price of mutton had gone up too, adding a third to the fortune of
+every sheepman; the ewes were lambing on the desert, bringing forth a
+hundred per cent or better, with twins--and every lamb must eat! To
+the hundred thousand sheep that had invaded Bronco Mesa there was
+added fifty thousand more, and they must all eat. It was this that the
+sheepmen had foreseen when they sent Juan Alvarez around to raid the
+upper range--not that they needed the feed then, but they would need
+it in the Spring, and need it bad. So they had tried to break the way
+and, 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 corners
+of the daily press, Hardy received a long hortatory letter from Judge
+Ware; and, before he could answer it, another. To these he answered
+briefly that the situation could only be relieved by some form of
+Federal control; that, personally, his sympathies were with the
+cattlemen, but, in case the judge was dissatisfied with his
+services--But Judge Ware had learned wisdom from a past experience and
+at this point he turned the correspondence over to Lucy. Then in a
+sudden fit of exasperation he packed his grip and hastened across the
+continent to Washington, to ascertain for himself why the Salagua
+Forest Reserve was not proclaimed. As for Lucy, her letters were as
+carefully considered as ever--she wrote of everything except the sheep
+and Kitty Bonnair. Not since she went away had she mentioned Kitty,
+nor had Hardy ever inquired about her. In idle moments he sometimes
+wondered what had been in that unread letter which he had burned with
+Creede's, but he never wrote in answer, and his heart seemed still and
+dead. For years the thought of Kitty Bonnair had haunted him, rising
+up in the long silence of the desert; in the rush and hurry of the
+round-up the vision of her supple form, the laughter of her eyes, the
+succession of her moods, had danced before his eyes in changing
+pictures, summoned up from the cherished past; but now his mind was
+filled with other things. Somewhere in the struggle against sheep and
+the drought he had lost her, as a man loses a keep-sake which he has
+carried so long against his heart that its absence is as unnoticed as
+its presence, and he never knows himself the poorer. After the drought
+had come the sheep, the stampede, fierce quarrels with the Swopes,
+threats and counter-threats--and then the preparations for war. The
+memory of the past faded away and another thought now haunted his
+mind, though he never spoke it--when the time came, would he fight, or
+would he stay with Lucy and let Jeff go out alone? It was a question
+never answered, but every day he rode out without his gun, and Creede
+took that for a sign.
+
+As the Rio Salagua, swollen with winter rains, rose up like a writhing
+yellow serpent and cast itself athwart the land, it drew a line from
+east to west which neither sheep nor cattle could cross, and the
+cowmen who had lingered about Hidden Water rode gayly back to their
+distant ranches, leaving the peaceful Dos S where Sallie Winship had
+hung her cherished lace curtains and Kitty Bonnair and Lucy Ware had
+made a home, almost a total wreck. Sheep, drought, and flood had
+passed over it in six months' time; the pasture fence was down, the
+corrals were half dismantled, and the bunk-room looked like a deserted
+grading camp. For a week Creede and Hardy cleaned up and rebuilt, but
+every day, in spite of his partner's efforts to divert his mind, Jeff
+grew more restless and uneasy. Then one lonely evening he went over
+to 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. "Ever
+since Tommy died it gits on my nerves, bad." He rooted out his tomato
+can and stuffed a roll of bills carelessly into his overalls pocket.
+"Got any mail to go out?" he inquired, coming back to the fire, and
+Hardy understood without more words that Jeff was going on another
+drunk.
+
+"Why, yes," he said, "I might write a letter to the boss. But how're
+you going to get across the river--she's running high now."
+
+"Oh, I'll git across the river, all right," grumbled Creede. "Born to
+be hung and ye can't git drowned, as they say. Well, give the boss my
+best." He paused, frowning gloomily into the fire. "Say," he said, his
+voice breaking a little, "d'ye ever hear anything from Miss Bonnair?"
+
+For a moment Hardy was silent. Then, reading what was in his partner's
+heart, 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. "But
+d'ye know what was the matter with me? Well, I never tumbled to it
+till afterward, but it was jest because she was like Sallie--talked
+like 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 nursed
+his wounds, and at last Hardy asked him a leading question about
+Sallie Winship.
+
+"Did I ever hear from 'er?" repeated Creede, rousing up from his
+reverie. "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 blame
+her 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 you
+got the wrong address."
+
+"Nope, I got it straight--Saint Louie, Mo., jest the way you see it in
+these 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 no
+difference, then. I don't amount to a dam', anyhow--and this is no
+place for a woman--but, by God, Rufe, I do git awful lonely when I
+see you writin' them letters to the boss. If I only had somebody that
+cared for me I'd prize up hell to make good. I'd do anything in God's
+world--turn back them sheep or give up my six-shooter, jest as she
+said; but, nope, they's no such luck for Jeff Creede--he couldn't make
+a-winnin' with a squaw."
+
+"Jeff," said Hardy quietly, "how much would you give to get a letter
+from Sallie?"
+
+"What d'ye mean?" demanded Creede, looking up quickly. Then, seeing
+the twinkle in his partner's eye, he made a grab for his money. "My
+whole 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 that
+trip to St. Louis. This hundred goes to the Rinkerton Detective
+Agency, St. Louis, Missouri, along with a real nice letter that I'll
+help you write; and the minute they deliver that letter into the hands
+of Miss Sallie Winship, formerly of Hidden Water, Arizona, and return
+an answer, there's another hundred coming to 'em. Is it a go?"
+
+"Pardner," said Creede, rising up solemnly from his place, "I want to
+shake with you on that."
+
+The next morning, with a package of letters in the crown of his black
+hat, Jefferson Creede swam Bat Wings across the swift current of the
+Salagua, hanging onto his tail from behind, and without even stopping
+to pour the water out of his boots struck into the long trail for
+Bender.
+
+One week passed, and then another, and at last he came back, wet and
+dripping from his tussle with the river, and cursing the very name of
+detectives.
+
+"W'y, shucks!" he grumbled. "I bummed around in town there for two
+weeks, hatin' myself and makin' faces at a passel of ornery sheepmen,
+and what do I git for my trouble? 'Dear Mister Creede, your letter of
+umpty-ump received. We have detailed Detective Moriarty on this case
+and will report later. Yours truly!' That's all--keep the change--we
+make a livin' off of suckers--and they's one born every minute. To
+hell with these detectives! Well, I never received nothin' more and
+finally I jumped at a poor little bandy-legged sheep-herder, a cross
+between a gorilla and a Digger Injun--scared him to death. But I
+pulled 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 hundred
+thousand 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--and
+they'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'll
+look like a watermelon patch after a nigger picnic; we'll be cleaned
+like Pablo Moreno; they won't be pickin's for a billy goat! And Jim
+'n' Jasp have been ribbin' their herders on scandalous. This little
+bandy-legged son-of-a-goat that I jumped at down in Bender actually
+had 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 you
+took Jasp to pieces you'd find out he was mad over them three thousand
+wethers--value six dollars per--that I stompeded. The dastard! D'ye
+see 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 goes
+down you'll find Jeff Creede right there with the goods if Jasp is
+lookin' 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 looking
+forward with pleasure to her visit in the Spring.
+
+"Well, wouldn't that jar you," commented Creede, and then he laughed
+slyly. "Cheer up," he said, "it might be worse--they's nothin' said
+about Kitty Bonnair."
+
+Sure enough--not a word about Kitty, and the year before Lucy had
+spoken about her in every letter! There was something mysterious about
+it, 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. But
+while others might dissemble, Bill Lightfoot's impulsive nature made
+no 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 the
+cowboys listened for the answer.
+
+"I'm sorry," said Miss Ware, politely evasive, "but she wasn't able to
+come with me."
+
+"She'll be down bimeby, though, won't she?" persisted Lightfoot; and
+when Lucy finally answered with a vague "Perhaps" he turned to the
+assembled cowboys with a triumphant grin. "Um, now, what'd I tell
+you!" he said; and one and all they scowled and stabbed him with their
+eyes.
+
+The _rodéo_ camp was already established beneath the big mesquite, and
+while three or four careless cowmen held the day herd over against the
+mesa the rest of the outfit was busy raking The Rolls. It was all very
+different from what Judge Ware and Lucy had anticipated. There was no
+sign of excitement in their midst, no ostentatious display of arms or
+posting of patrols, and what surprised the judge most of all was that
+in their friendly gatherings around the fire there was no one, save
+Hardy, who would argue against the sheep.
+
+The judge had been on to Washington and was possessed of all the
+material facts, but nobody was interested any more in the Salagua
+Forest Reserve; he had consulted with the Chief Forester and even with
+the President himself, laying before them the imminence of the danger,
+and they had assured him that everything possible would be done to
+relieve the situation. Did it not, then, he demanded, behoove the
+law-abiding residents of prospective forest reserves to coöperate with
+such an enlightened administration, even at the risk of some temporary
+personal loss? And with one voice the Four Peaks cowmen agreed that it
+did. There was something eerie about it--the old judge was dazed by
+their acquiescence.
+
+Of all the cowmen at Hidden Water, Rufus Hardy was the only man who
+would discuss the matter at length. A change had come over him now; he
+was very thin and quiet, with set lines along his jaw, but instead of
+riding nervously up and down the river as he had the year before he
+lingered idly about the ranch, keeping tally at the branding and
+entertaining his guests. No matter how pedantic or polemical the old
+judge became, Hardy was willing to listen to him; and Lucy, hovering
+in the background, would often smile to hear them argue, the judge
+laying down the law and equity of the matter and Rufus meeting him
+like an expert swordsman with parry and thrust. Day by day, his
+prejudice wearing away from lack of any real opposition, Judge Ware
+became more and more pleased with his daughter's superintendent; but
+Lucy herself was troubled. There was a look in his eyes that she had
+never seen before, a set and haggard stare that came when he sat
+alone, and his head was always turned aside, as if he were listening.
+The sheep came trooping in from the south, marching in long lines to
+the 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 the
+upper range with Creede, "what is it that made you so sad? Is
+it--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 back
+into 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 to
+cross.
+
+"I have forgotten about Kitty," he said absently. "For me there is
+nothing in the world but sheep. Can't you hear them bleating down
+there?" 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't
+think of that day last year when they came pouring out of Hell's Hip
+Pocket with a noise like the end of the world. If I had been there to
+stop them they might never have taken the range--but after that, all
+through the hot summer when the cattle were dying for feed, every time
+the 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, almost
+roughly. "It means little calves dying around the water hole; mothers
+lowing for their little ones that they have left to starve; it means
+long lines of cows following me out over the mesa for brush, and all
+the trees cut down. Ah, Lucy, how can your father talk of waiting when
+it means as much as that?"
+
+"But last year was a drought," protested Lucy pitifully. "Will it be
+as bad this year?"
+
+"Every bit! Did you notice that plain between Bender and the river? It
+will 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 cannot
+cross." And then as a quail strikes up leaves and dust to hide her
+nest, he launched forth quickly upon a story of the flood.
+
+The Salagua was long in flood that Spring. Day after day, while the
+sheep wandered uneasily along its banks rearing up to strip the last
+remnants of browse from the tips of willows and burro bushes, it
+rolled ponderously forth from its black-walled gorge and flowed past
+the crossing, deep and strong, sucking evenly into the turbid
+whirlpool that waited for its prey. At the first approach of the
+invaders the unconsidered zeal of Judge Ware overcame him; he was for
+peace, reason, the saner judgment that comes from wider views and a
+riper mind, and, fired by the hope of peaceful truce, he rode
+furtively along the river waving a white handkerchief whenever he saw
+a sheep-herder, and motioning him to cross. But however anxious he was
+for an interview the desires of the sheepmen did not lean in that
+direction, and they only stared at him stolidly or pretended not to
+see.
+
+Thwarted in his efforts for peace the judge returned to camp deep in
+thought. The sheep were at his very door and nothing had been done to
+stay them; a deadly apathy seemed to have settled down upon the
+cowmen; after all their threats there were no preparations for
+defence; the river was not even patrolled; and yet if quick action was
+not taken the upper range might be irreparably ruined before the
+reserve was proclaimed. Not that he would countenance violence, but a
+judicious show of resistance, for instance, might easily delay the
+crossing until the President could act, or even so daunt the invaders
+that they would go around. It was not strictly legal, of course, but
+the judge could see no harm in suggesting it, and as soon as the
+cowmen were gathered about their fire that evening he went out and sat
+down by Creede, who lay sprawled on his back, his head pillowed on his
+hands, smoking.
+
+"Well, Jefferson," he began, feeling his way cautiously, "I see that
+the sheep have come down to the river--they will be making a crossing
+soon, I suppose?"
+
+Creede sucked studiously upon his cigarette, and shifted it to a
+corner 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 this
+year?"
+
+"Sure thing," responded Creede, resuming his smoke, "that's what they
+come up here for. You want to take a last long look at this grass."
+
+"Yes, but, Jefferson," protested the judge, opening up his eyes, "what
+will 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't
+mean to say that you are preparing to go out of business? Why, my dear
+Jefferson, this country may be set aside as a forest reserve at any
+minute--and think of the privileges you will be giving up! As an owner
+of cattle already grazing upon the range you will be entitled to the
+first consideration of the Government; you will be granted the first
+grazing permit; there will be forest rangers to protect you; the
+sheep, being transient stock and known to be very destructive to
+forest growth, will undoubtedly be confined to a narrow trail far
+below us; by the payment of a nominal grazing fee you will be
+absolutely guaranteed in all your rights and watched over by the
+Federal Government!"
+
+"Oh, hell!" exclaimed the big cowboy, rising up suddenly from his
+place, "don't talk Government to me, whatever you do! W'y, Judge," he
+cried, throwing out his hands, "they ain't no Government here. They
+ain't no law. I could go over and kill one of them sheep-herders and
+you wouldn't see an officer in two days. I've lived here for nigh onto
+twenty-six years and the nearest I ever come to seein' the Government
+was a mule branded 'U. S.'"
+
+He stopped abruptly and, striding out into the darkness, picked up a
+log of wood and laid it carefully upon the fire.
+
+"Judge," he said, turning suddenly and wagging an accusing finger at
+his former employer, "I've heard a lot from you about this reserve,
+how the President was goin' to telegraph you the news the minute he
+signed 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 that
+the sheep will have us dished. Maybe you could use your pull to kinder
+hurry things up a little--do a little telegraphin', or somethin' like
+that."
+
+"I'll do it!" cried the judge, taking the bait like a fish, "I'll do
+it at once! I want your best horse, Jeff, and a guide. I'll wire the
+chief forester from Bender!"
+
+"Keno!" said Creede sententiously, "and give my regards to Teddy."
+
+As the old judge disappeared over the western rim the next morning
+the _rodéo_ boss smiled grimly behind his hand, and glanced
+significantly at Hardy. Then, with the outfit behind him, he rode
+slowly 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 a
+drop; then suddenly, as the snow water ran by and a cool day checked
+the distant streams, it fell, and the swift pageant of the crossing
+began. At sun-up a boss herder rode boldly out into the current and
+swam it with his horse; brawny Mexicans leapt into the thicket of
+_palo verdes_ that grew against the cliff and cut branches to build a
+chute; Jasper Swope in his high sombrero and mounted on his black mule
+galloped down from the hidden camp and urged his men along. Still the
+same ominous silence hung about the shore where Juan Alvarez lay
+buried beneath the cross. There was no watcher on Lookout Point, no
+horsemen lurking in the distance; only the lowing of the day herd, far
+up the cañon, and the lapping of muddy waters. Across the river the
+low _malpai_ cliffs rose up like ramparts against them and Black Butte
+frowned down upon them like a watch tower, but of the men who might be
+there watching there was no sign.
+
+The sheepman studied upon the situation for a while; then he sent a
+messenger flying back to camp and soon a hardy band of wethers came
+down, led by an advance guard of goats, and their plaintive bleating
+echoed in a confused chorus from the high cliffs as they entered the
+wings of the chute. Already the camp rustlers had driven them out
+on the slanting rock and encircled the first cut with their canvas
+wagon cover, when Jasper Swope held up his hand for them to stop. At
+the last moment and for no cause he hesitated, touched by some
+premonition, or suspicious of the silent shore. One after another
+the herders clambered back and squatted idly against the cool
+cliff, smoking and dangling their polished carbines; the sheep, left
+standing upon the rock, huddled together and stood motionless; the
+goats leapt nimbly up on adjacent bowlders and gazed across the
+river intently; then, throwing up his hand again, the sheepman
+spurred his black mule recklessly into the water, waving his big hat
+as he motioned for the sheep to cross.
+
+As the long hours of that portentous morning wore on, palpitating to
+the clamor of the sheep, a great quiet settled upon Hidden Water.
+Sitting just within the door Hardy watched Lucy as she went about her
+work, but his eyes were wandering and haggard and he glanced from time
+to time at the Black Butte that stood like a sentinel against the
+crossing. In the intervals of conversation the bleating of the sheep
+rose suddenly from down by the river, and ceased; he talked on,
+feverishly, never stopping for an answer, and Lucy looked at him
+strangely, as if wondering at his preoccupation. Again the deep
+tremolo rose up, echoing from the cliffs, and Hardy paused in the
+midst of a story to listen. He was still staring out the doorway when
+Lucy Ware came over and laid her hand on his shoulder.
+
+"Rufus," she said, "what is it you are always listening for? Day after
+day I see you watching here by the door, and when I talk you listen
+for something else. Tell me--is it--are you watching for Kitty?"
+
+"Kitty?" repeated Hardy, his eyes still intent. "Why no; why should I
+be watching for her?"
+
+At his answer, spoken so impassively, she drew away quickly, but he
+caught her hand and stopped her.
+
+"Ah no," he said, "if I could only listen for something else it would
+be better--but all I hear is sheep. I'm like old Bill Johnson; I can
+still shoot straight and find my way in the mountains, but every time
+I hear a sheep blat I change. Poor old Bill, he's over across the
+river there now; the boys have heard his hounds baying up in the high
+cliffs for a week. I've seen him a time or two since he took to the
+hills and he's just as quiet and gentle with me as if he were my
+father, but if anybody mentions sheep he goes raving crazy in a
+minute. Jeff says he's been that way himself for years, and now it's
+got me, too. If I get much worse," he ended, suddenly glancing up at
+her with a wistful smile, "you'll have to take me away."
+
+"Away!" cried Lucy eagerly, "would you go? You know father and I have
+talked of it time and again, but you just stick and stick, and nothing
+will 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 the
+echoing of the cliffs. Hardy leapt to his feet and listened intently,
+his eyes burning with suppressed excitement; then he stepped
+reluctantly back into the house and resumed his seat.
+
+"I guess it's only those Mexican herders," he said. "They shoot that
+way to drive their sheep."
+
+"But look!" cried Lucy, pointing out the door, "the Black Butte is
+afire! Just see that great smoke!"
+
+Hardy sprang up again and dashed out into the open. The popping of
+thirty-thirtys had ceased, but from the summit of the square-topped
+butte a signal fire rose up to heaven, tall and straight and black.
+
+"Aha!" he muttered, and without looking at her he ran out to the
+corral to saddle Chapuli. But when he came back he rode slowly,
+checking the impatience of his horse, until at last he dismounted
+beside her. For days his eyes had been furtive and evasive, but now at
+last they were steady.
+
+"Lucy," he said, "I haven't been very honest with you, but I guess you
+know what this means--the boys are turning back the sheep." His voice
+was low and gentle, and he stood very straight before her, like a
+soldier. Yet, even though she sensed what was in his mind, Lucy
+smiled. For a month he had been to her like another man, a man without
+emotion or human thought, and now in a moment he had come back, the
+old Rufus that she had known in her heart so long.
+
+"Yes," she said, holding out her hand to him, "I knew it. But you are
+working for me, you know, and I cannot let you go. Listen, Rufus," she
+pleaded, as he drew away, "have I ever refused you anything? Tell me
+what 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 are
+in it--and I must go."
+
+He waited for some answer, but Lucy only turned away. There were tears
+in her eyes when she looked back at him and her lips trembled, but she
+passed into the house without a word. Hardy gazed wonderingly after
+her and his heart smote him; she was like some sensitive little child
+to whom every rough word was a blow, and he had hurt her. He glanced
+at the signal fire that rolled up black and sombre as the watcher
+piled green brush upon it, then he dropped his bridle rein and stepped
+quickly 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--this
+is not a battle against men, but sheep. No one will be killed. And now
+may I go?" Once more his voice became low and gentle and he stood
+before her like some questing knight before his queen, but she only
+sat gazing at him with eyes that he could not understand.
+
+"Listen, Lucy," he cried, "I will not go unless you tell me--and now
+may 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, but
+I will not hold you against your will. Oh, Rufus, Rufus!" she cried,
+suddenly holding out her hands, "can't you understand? I can't set
+myself against you, and yet--think what it is to be a woman!" She rose
+up and stood before him, the soft light glowing in her eyes, and Hardy
+stepped forward to meet her; but in that moment a drumming of hoofs
+echoed through the doorway, there was a rush of horsemen leaning
+forward as they rode, and then Jefferson Creede thundered by, glancing
+back 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 Point
+and were gone he bowed his head in silence.
+
+"Lucy," he said, at last, "my mind has been far away. I--I have not
+seen what was before me, and I shall always be the loser. But look--I
+have two friends in all the world, you and Jeff, and you are the
+dearer by far. But you could see as Jeff went by that he was mad. What
+he will do at the river I can only guess; he is crazy, and a crazy man
+will do anything. But if I am with him I can hold him back--will you
+let me go?" He held out his hands and as Lucy took them she saw for
+the first time in his shy eyes--love. For a moment she gazed at him
+wistfully, but her heart never faltered. Whatever his will might be
+she 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 and
+plunged down through the rocks and trees had hardly lost its echoes in
+the cliffs when, with a flash of color and a dainty pattering of
+hoofs, Chapuli came flying over the top of Lookout Point and dashed up
+the river after them. The cowmen had left their horses in the deep
+ravine at the end of the _malpai_ bluffs and were already crouched
+behind the rampart of the rim rocks as close as Indian fighters, each
+by 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 at
+his side greeting him at the same time with a broad grin.
+
+"Hello, sport," he said, "couldn't keep out of it, eh? Well, we need
+ye, all right. Here, you can hold straighter than I can; take my gun
+and shoot rainbows around the leaders when they start to come
+across."
+
+"Not much," answered Hardy, waving the gun away, "I just came down to
+keep you out of trouble."
+
+"Ye-es!" jeered Creede, "first thing I know you'll be down there
+fightin' 'em back with rocks. But say," he continued, "d'ye notice
+anything funny up on that cliff? Listen, now!"
+
+Hardy turned his head, and soon above the clamor of the sheep he made
+out 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 his
+thirty-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' across
+anyway. Well, that's what keeps hell crowded--let 'er go!"
+
+There was a glitter of carbines against the opposite cliffs where the
+spare herders had taken to cover, but out on the rocky point where the
+chute led into the river a gang of Mexicans and two Americans were
+leading their wagon cover around a fresh cut of goats and sheep. On
+the sand bar far below the stragglers from the first cut, turned back
+in the initial rush, were wandering aimlessly about or plodding back
+to the herd, but the sheepmen with bullheaded persistence were
+preparing to try again. Chief among them towered the boss, Jasper
+Swope, wet to the waist from swimming across the river; and as he
+motioned to the herders to go ahead he ran back and mounted his mule
+again. With a barbaric shout the Mexicans surged forward on the
+tarpaulin, sweeping their cut to the very edge; then, as the goats set
+their feet and held back, a swarthy herder leapt into the midst and
+tumbled them, sheep and goats alike, into the water. Like plummets
+they went down into the slow-moving depths, some headfirst, some
+falling awkwardly on their backs or slipping like beavers on a slide;
+there was a prolonged and mighty splash and then, one by one the heads
+bobbed up and floated away until, led by the high-horned goats, they
+struck out for the opposite shore. Below, yelling and throwing stones
+to frighten them, a line of Mexicans danced up and down along the
+rocky shore, and to keep them from drifting into the whirlpool Jasper
+Swope plunged boldly into the water on his mule.
+
+Sink or swim, the sheep were in the water, and for a minute there was
+a tense silence along the river; then, as the goats lined out, a rifle
+shot echoed from the cliffs and a white column of water rose up before
+the leader. He shook his head, hesitated and looked back, and once
+more the water splashed in his face, while the deep _ploomp_ of the
+bullet answered to the shot. Fighting away from the sudden stroke the
+goat lost his headway and, drifting, fouled those below him; a sudden
+confusion fell upon the orderly ranks of the invaders and, like a
+flock of geese whose leader is killed, they jostled against one
+another, some intent on the farther shore and some struggling to turn
+back. Instantly a chorus of savage shouts rose up from along the
+river, the shrill yells of the cowboys mingling with the whooping and
+whistling of the sheepmen, until at last, overcome by the hostile
+clamor, the timid sheep turned back toward the main herd, drawing with
+them the goats. For a minute Jasper Swope fought against them, waving
+his hat and shouting; then, rather than see them drift too far and be
+drawn into the clutch of the whirlpool, he whipped his mule about and
+led them back to the shore.
+
+A second time, calling out all his men to help, the boss sheepman
+tried to cross the goats alone, intending to hold them on the shore
+for a lure; but just as they were well lined out the same careful
+marksman behind the _malpai_ threw water in their faces and turned
+them back. But this time Jasper Swope did not lead the retreat.
+Slapping his black mule over the ears with his hat he held straight
+for the opposite shore, cursing and brandishing his gun.
+
+"You dam', cowardly passel of tail-twisters!" he cried, shaking his
+fist 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, riding
+closer to the beach. "Why don't you come down and fight me like a
+man?" His big voice was trembling with excitement and he held his
+pistol balanced in the air as if awaiting an attack, but Jefferson
+Creede did not answer him.
+
+"I'll fight you, man to man, you big blowhard!" thundered Swope, "and
+there goes my pistol to prove it!" He rose in his stirrups as he spoke
+and hurled it away from him, throwing his cartridge belt after it.
+"_Now_," he yelled, "you've been sayin' what you'd do; come out of
+your hole, Jeff Creede, I want ye!"
+
+"Well, you won't git me, then," answered Creede, his voice coming cold
+and 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, send
+him down, and if he licks me I'll go around."
+
+"You'll go around anyhow, you Mormon-faced wool-puller!" replied the
+cowman promptly, "and we're here to see to it, so you might as well
+chase yourself."
+
+"No, I like this side," said the sheepman, pretending to admire the
+scenery. "I'll jest stay here a while, and then I'll cross in spite of
+ye. If I can't cross here," he continued, "I'll wait for the river to
+fall and cross down below--and then I'll sheep you to the rocks, you
+low-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 hand
+toward the point where the wooden cross rose against the sky, but no
+one answered the taunt.
+
+"_Murderers_, I said!" he shouted, rising up in his saddle. "I call
+you 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 when
+the river goes down they'll come in on you, if it's only to break even
+for Juan."
+
+He settled back in his saddle and gazed doubtfully at the bluff, and
+then 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, yet
+there 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 over
+this. Send down your best man--if he licks me I go around; if I lick
+him I come across. Is it a go?"
+
+There was a short silence and then an argument broke out along the
+bluff, a rapid fire of exhortation and protest, some urging Creede to
+take him up, others clamoring for peace.
+
+"No!" shouted Jefferson Creede, raising his voice angrily above the
+uproar. "I won't do it! I wouldn't trust a sheepman as far as I could
+throw 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 to
+my shirt; there goes my gun into the water--and I'm on your side of
+the river! You're a coward, Jeff Creede, and I always knowed it!"
+
+"But my head ain't touched," commented Creede dryly. "I've got you
+stopped anyhow. What kind of a dam' fool would I be to fight over
+it?"
+
+"I'll fight ye for nothin', then!" bellowed the sheepman. "I'll--" He
+stopped abruptly and a great quiet fell upon both shores. From the
+mouth 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. It
+was Rufus Hardy, dwarfed like David before Goliath in the presence of
+the burly sheepman, but striding over the hard-packed sand with the
+lithe swiftness of a panther.
+
+"_I'll_ fight you," he said, raising his hand in challenge, but
+Swope's answer was drowned in a wild yell from Creede.
+
+"Come back here, Rufe, you durn' fool!" he called. "Come back, I tell
+ye! Don't you know better than to trust a sheepman?"
+
+"Never mind, now," answered Hardy, turning austerely to the bluff. "I
+guess I can take care of myself."
+
+He swung about and advanced to the stretch of level sand where Swope
+was standing. "What guarantee do I get," he demanded sharply, "that if
+I lick you in a fair fight the sheep will go around?"
+
+"You--lick--me!" repeated the sheepman, showing his jagged teeth in a
+sardonic grin. "Well, I'll tell ye, Willie; if you hit me with that
+lily-white hand of yourn, and I find it out the same day, I'll promise
+to stay off'n your range for a year."
+
+"All right," replied Hardy, suddenly throwing away his hat. "You
+noticed it when I hit you before, didn't you?" he inquired, edging
+quickly in on his opponent and beginning an amazing bout of shadow
+boxing. "Well, _come on_, _then_!" He laughed as Swope struck out at
+him, and continued his hectoring banter. "As I remember it your head
+hit the ground before your heels!"
+
+Then in a whirlwind of blows and feints they came together. It was the
+old story of science against brute strength. Jasper Swope was a
+rough-and-tumble fighter of note; he was quick, too, in spite of his
+weight, and his blows were like the strokes of a sledge; but Hardy did
+not attempt to stand up against him. For the first few minutes it was
+more of a chase than a fight, and in that the sheepman was at his
+worst, cumbered by his wet clothes and the water in his shoes. Time
+and again he rushed in upon his crouching opponent, who always seemed
+in the act of delivering a blow and yet at the moment only sidestepped
+and danced away. The hard wet sand was ploughed and trampled with
+their tracks, the records of a dozen useless plunges, when suddenly
+instead of dodging Hardy stepped quickly forward, his "lily-white
+hand" 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, and
+lowering his head he bored in upon Hardy furiously. Once more Hardy
+sidestepped, but the moment his enemy turned he flew at him like a
+tiger, raining blows upon his bloody face in lightning succession.
+
+"_Huh_!" grunted the sheepman, coughing like a wood-chopper as he
+struck back through the storm, and the chance blow found its mark. For
+a moment Hardy staggered, clutching at his chest; but as Swope sprang
+forward to finish his work he ducked and slipped aside, stumbling like
+a man about to drop.
+
+A shrill yell went up from the farther shore as Hardy stood swaying in
+his tracks, and a fierce shout of warning from the bluff; but Jasper
+Swope was implacable. Brushing the blood from his eyes he stepped
+deliberately forward and aimed a blow that would have felled an ox,
+straight at his enemy's head. It missed; the drooping head snapped
+down like Judy before Punch and rose up again, truculently; then
+before the sheepman could regain his balance Hardy threw his whole
+strength into a fierce uppercut that laid Swope sprawling on his
+back.
+
+A howl of triumph and derision rose up from the rim of the bluff as
+the burly sheepman went down, but it changed to a sudden shout of
+warning as he scrambled back to his feet again. There was something
+indescribably vengeful about him as he whirled upon his enemy, and his
+hand 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 rock
+pile. "Run! _Jump into the river_!" But instead Hardy grabbed up a
+handful of sand and ran in upon his adversary. The pistol stuck for a
+moment in its hidden sling and as Swope wrenched it loose and turned
+to shoot, Hardy made as if to close with him and then threw the sand
+full in his face. It was only an instant's respite but as the sheepman
+blinked and struck the dirt from his eyes the little cowman wheeled
+and made a dash for the river. "_Look out_!" screamed Creede, as the
+gun flashed out and came to a point, and like a bullfrog Hardy hurled
+himself far out into the eddying water. Then like the sudden voice of
+Nemesis, protesting against such treachery, a rifle shot rang out from
+the towering crags that overshadowed the river and Jasper Swope fell
+forward, dead. His pistol smashed against a rock and exploded, but the
+man he had set himself to kill was already buried beneath the turbid
+waters. So swiftly did it all happen that no two men saw the
+same--some were still gazing at the body of Jasper Swope; others were
+staring up at the high cliff whence the shot had come; but Jeff Creede
+had 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, he
+leapt up and ran for his horse. Then Bill Johnson's rifle rang out
+again from the summit of his high cliff, and every man scrambled for
+cover.
+
+A Mexican herder dropped his gun suddenly and slipped down behind a
+rock; and his _compadres_, not knowing from whence the hostile fire
+came, pushed out their carbines and began to shoot wildly; the deep
+cañon reverberated to the rattle of thirty-thirtys and the steady
+_crack_, _crack_ of the rifle above threw the sheep camp into
+confusion. There was a shout as Creede dashed recklessly out into the
+open and the sand leapt up in showers behind him, but Bat Wings was
+running like the wind and the bullets went wide of their mark.
+
+Swinging beneath the mesquite trees and scrambling madly over stones
+and bushes he hammered up the slope of Lookout Point and disappeared
+in a cloud of dirt, but as Hardy drifted around the bend and floated
+toward the whirlpool there was a crash of brush from down the river
+and Creede came battering through the trees to the shore. Taking down
+his _reata_ as he rode he leapt quickly off his horse and ran out on
+the big flat rock from which they had often fished together. At his
+feet the turbid current rolled ponderously against the solid wall of
+rock and, turning back upon itself, swung round in an ever-lessening
+circle until it sucked down suddenly into a spiral vortex that spewed
+up all it caught in the boiling channel below. There in years past the
+lambs 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 effort
+to gain the bank; then fixing his eyes upon his partner he resigned
+himself to the drag of the whirlpool, staking his life on a single
+throw of the rope. Once the plaited rawhide was wetted it would twist
+and bind in the _honda_ and before Creede could beat it straight and
+coil 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 kinks
+out of his _reata_ and coiled it carefully; then as the first broad
+swirl seized its plaything and swung him slowly around Creede let out
+a big loop and began to swing it about his head, his teeth showing in
+a tense grin as he fixed his eyes upon the mark. At each turn his
+wrist flexed and his back swayed with a willowy suppleness but except
+for that he was like a herculean statue planted upon the point.
+
+The maelstrom heaved and rocked as it swung its victim nearer and like
+a thing with life seemed suddenly to hurry him past; then as Hardy
+cried out and held up a hand for help the rope cut through the air
+like a knife and the loop shot far out across the boiling water. It
+was a long throw, fifty feet from the rock, and the last coil had left
+his tense fingers before the noose fell, but it splashed a circle
+clean and true about the uplifted hand. For a moment the cowboy
+waited, watching; then as the heavy rope sank behind his partner's
+shoulders he took in his slack with a jerk. The noose tightened
+beneath Hardy's arms and held him against the insistent tug of the
+river; and while the whirlpool roared and foamed against his body
+Creede hauled him forth roughly, until, stooping down, he gathered him
+into his arms like a child.
+
+"My God, boy," he said, "you're takin' big chances, for a family
+man--but say, what did I tell you about sheepmen?"
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+The Mexicans were still firing random shots along the river when
+Creede lifted his partner up on Bat Wings and carried him back to
+Hidden Water. Long before they reached the house they could see Lucy
+standing in the doorway, and Hardy held himself painfully erect in the
+saddle, with Creede steadying him from behind; but when Bat Wings
+halted before the _ramada_ Jeff broke rudely in on the play acting by
+taking the little man in his arms and depositing him on a bed.
+
+"Fell into the river," he said, turning with a reassuring smile to
+Lucy, "but he ain't hurt none--only kinder weak, you know. I reckon a
+little hot tea would help some, bein' as we're out of whiskey, and
+while you're brewin' it I'll git these wet clothes off. Yes'm, we're
+havin' a little trouble, but that's only them locoed Mexicans shootin'
+off their spare ammunition." He dragged up a cot as he spoke and was
+hurriedly arranging a bed when Lucy interposed.
+
+"Oh, but don't leave him out here!" she protested, "put him back in
+his own room, where I can take care of him."
+
+"All right," said Creede, and picking him up from his bare cot beneath
+the _ramada_ he carried Hardy into the little room where he had lived
+before Lucy Ware came. "I guess your troubles are over for a while,
+pardner," he remarked, as he tucked him into the clean white bed, and
+then with a wise look at Lucy he slipped discreetly out the door.
+
+As she entered with the tea Hardy was lying very limp and white
+against the pillow, but after the hot drink he opened his big gray
+eyes and looked up at her sombrely.
+
+"Sit down," he said, speaking with elaborate exactness, "I want to
+tell you something." He reached out and took her hand, and as he
+talked he clung to it appealingly. "Lucy," he began, "I didn't forget
+about you when I went down there, but--well, when Jasper Swope came
+out and challenged us my hair began to bristle like a dog's--and the
+next thing I knew I was fighting. He said if I licked him he'd go
+round--but you can't trust these sheepmen. When he saw he was whipped
+he tried to shoot me, and I had to jump into the river. Oh, I'm all
+right now, but--listen, Lucy!" He drew her down to him, insistently.
+"Can't you forgive me, this time?" he whispered, and when she nodded
+he closed his heavy eyes and fell asleep.
+
+When he awoke in the morning there was nothing to show for his fierce
+fight with Swope or his battle with the river--nothing but a great
+weariness and a wistful look in his eyes. But all day while the boys
+rode back and forth from the river he lay in bed, looking dreamily out
+through the barred window or following Lucy with furtive glances as
+she flitted in and out. Whenever she came near he smiled, and often
+the soft light crept into his eyes, but when by chance he touched her
+hand or she brushed back his hair a great quiet settled upon him and
+he turned his face away.
+
+It was Creede who first took notice of his preoccupation and after a
+series of unsatisfactory visits he beckoned Lucy outside the door with
+a solemn jerk of the head.
+
+"Say," he said, "that boy's got something on his mind--I can tell by
+them big eyes of his. Any idee what it is?"
+
+"Why, no," answered Lucy, blushing before his searching gaze, "unless
+it's the sheep."
+
+"Nope," said Creede, "it ain't that. I tried to talk sheep and he
+wouldn't listen to me. This here looks kinder bad," he observed,
+shaking his head ominously. "I don't like it--layin' in bed all day
+and thinkin' that way. W'y, that'd make _me_ sick!"
+
+He edged awkwardly over to where she was standing and lowered his
+voice 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 something
+away off yonder, too--but this is different. Now of course I don't
+know nothin' about it, but I think all that boy needs is a little
+babyin', 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 sorry
+for 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." He
+pulled down his hat, swung dexterously up on Bat Wings and galloped
+away down the valley, waving his hand at the barred window as he
+passed.
+
+Long after the clatter of hoofs had ceased Lucy stood in the shade of
+the _ramada_, gazing pensively at the fire-blasted buttes and the
+tender blue mountains beyond. How could such rugged hillsides produce
+men who were always gentle, men whose first thought was always of
+those who loved them and never of fighting and blood? It was a land of
+hardships and strife and it left its mark on them all. The Rufus that
+she had known before had seemed different from all other men, and she
+had loved him for it, even when all his thought was for Kitty; but now
+in two short years he had become stern and headstrong in his ways; his
+eyes that had smiled up at her so wistfully when he had first come
+back from the river were set and steady again like a soldier's, and he
+lay brooding upon some hidden thing that his lips would never speak.
+Her mutinous heart went out to him at every breath, now that he lay
+there so still; at a word she could kneel at his side and own that she
+had always loved him; but his mind was far away and he took no
+thought of her weakness. He was silent--and she must be a woman to the
+end, a voiceless suppliant, a slave that waits, unbidden, a chip on
+the 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 her
+work with the quiet of a lover who listens for some call, and as she
+passed to and fro she felt his gaze upon her. At last she looked up
+and 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 suddenly
+as he answered with his eloquent eyes, but he could not speak the
+word.
+
+"Who am I?" he murmured, musingly, "to ask for all the world?" But he
+held close to the little hands and as he felt their yielding his
+breath 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 born
+in me--I cannot help it. Not with men!" he cried, his eyes lighting
+up. "Ah, no; my father was a soldier, and I can fight--but--"
+
+He paused and his vehemence died away suddenly. "Lucy," he began
+again, still clinging to her hands for courage, "you have never
+laughed at me--you have always been gentle and patient--I will tell
+you something. You know how I ran away from Kitty, and how when she
+came down here I avoided her. I was afraid, Lucy, and yet--well, it is
+all over now." He sighed and turned restlessly on his pillow. "One day
+I met her up the river and she--she called me a coward. Not by the
+word--but I knew. That was the day before the sheep came in through
+Hell's Hip Pocket, and even Jeff doesn't know of the fights I had that
+night. I went out yesterday and fought Jasper Swope with my bare hands
+to wipe the shame away--but it's no use, I'm a coward yet." He groaned
+and turned his face to the wall but Lucy only sighed and brushed back
+his hair. For a minute he lay there, tense and still; then as her hand
+soothed him he turned and his voice became suddenly soft and
+caressing, as she had always liked it best.
+
+"Don't laugh at me for it, Lucy," he said, "I love you--but I'm
+afraid." 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 any
+one since my mother died--could--could you kiss me first?"
+
+"Ah, yes, Rufus," she answered, and as their lips met he held her
+gently in his arms.
+
+
+
+
+CHAPTER XXIV
+
+THE END OF IT ALL
+
+
+There is a mocking-bird at Hidden Water that sings the songs of all
+the birds and whistles for the dog. His nest is in a great cluster of
+mistletoe in the mesquite tree behind the house and every morning he
+polishes his long curved bill against the _ramada_ roof, preens out
+his glossy feathers, and does honor to the sun. For two years, off and
+on, Hardy had heard him, mimicking orioles and larks and sparrows and
+whistling shrilly for the dog, but now for the first time his heart
+answered to the wild joy of the bird lover. The world had taken on
+light and color over night, and the breeze, sifting in through the
+barred window, was sweet with the fragrance of untrampled flowers.
+
+April had come, and the grass; the air was untainted; there was no
+braying by the river--the sheep had gone. It had been bought at the
+price 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 be
+broken in the nest but the mothers would lead forth their little ones;
+even the ground-doves and the poor-wills, nesting in last year's
+sheep tracks, would escape the myriad feet--and all because a crazy
+man, hiding among the cliffs, had shot down Jasper Swope. Without hate
+or pity Hardy thought of that great hairy fighting-man; the God that
+let him live would judge him dead--and Bill Johnson too, when he
+should die. The sheep were gone and Lucy had kissed him--these were
+the great facts in the world.
+
+They were sitting close together beneath the _ramada_, looking out
+upon the sunlit valley and talking dreamily of the old days, when
+suddenly Hardy edged away and pointed apologetically to the western
+trail. There in single file came Judge Ware in his linen duster, a
+stranger in khaki, and a woman, riding astride.
+
+"There comes father!" cried Lucy, springing up eagerly and waving her
+hand.
+
+"And Kitty," added Hardy, in a hushed voice. Not since they had come
+had he spoken of her, and Lucy had respected his silence. Except for
+the vague "Perhaps" with which she had answered Bill Lightfoot's
+persistent inquiries he had had no hint that Kitty might come, and yet
+a vague uneasiness had held his eyes to the trail.
+
+"Tell me, Lucy," he said, drawing her back to his side as the party
+dipped out of sight in the interminable thicket of mesquites, "why
+have you never spoken of Kitty? Has anything dreadful happened? Please
+tell me quick, before she comes. I--I won't know what to say." He
+twisted about and fixed an eye on the doorway, but Lucy held out a
+restraining hand.
+
+"It has been a great secret," she said, "and you must promise not to
+tell, but Kitty has been writing a play."
+
+"A play!" exclaimed Hardy, astounded, "why--what in the world is it
+about?"
+
+"About Arizona, of course," cried Lucy. "Don't you remember how eager
+she was to hear you men talk? And she collected all those spurs and
+quirts for stage properties! Why, she wrote books and books full of
+notes and cowboy words while she was down here and she's been buried
+in manuscript for months. When she heard that you were having the
+round-up early this year she was perfectly frantic to come, but they
+were right in the midst of writing it and she just couldn't get
+away."
+
+"They?" repeated Hardy, mystified. "Why who--"
+
+"Oh, I forgot," said Lucy, biting her lip. Then in a lower voice she
+added: "She has been collaborating with Tupper Browne."
+
+"Tupper Browne! Why, what does he know about Arizona?" cried Hardy
+indignantly, and then, as Lucy looked away, he stopped short.
+
+"Oh!" he said, and then there was a long silence. "Well, Tupper's a
+good fellow," he remarked philosophically. "But Lucy," he said,
+starting up nervously as the sound of horses' feet came up from the
+creek bed, "you'll--you'll do all the talking, won't you?"
+
+"Talking!" repeated Lucy, pausing in her flight. "Why, yes," she
+called back, laughing. "Isn't that always the woman's part?" And then
+she fell upon Kitty's neck and kissed her. Hardy came forward with
+less assurance, but his embarrassment was reduced to a minimum by
+Judge Ware who, as soon as the first greetings were over, brought
+forward 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 added
+significantly.
+
+"Ah, then you must bring us good news!" cried Hardy, holding out his
+hand eagerly.
+
+"Yes," answered the official modestly, but his speech ended with that
+word.
+
+"I am convinced," began Judge Ware, suddenly quelling all conversation
+by the earnestness of his demeanor. "I am convinced that in setting
+aside the Salagua watershed as a National Forest Reserve, our
+President has added to the record of his good deeds an act of such
+consummate statesmanship that it will be remembered long after his
+detractors are forgotten. But for him, millions of acres of public
+land now set aside as reserves would still be open to the devastation of
+unrestricted grazing, or have passed irrevocably into the power of this
+infamous land ring which has been fighting on the floor of Congress to
+deprive the American people of their rights. But after both houses had
+passed a bill depriving the executive of his power to proclaim Forest
+Reserves--holding back the appropriations for the Forestry Service as a
+threat--he baffled them by a feigned acquiescence. In exchange for
+the appropriations, he agreed to sign the act--and then, after securing
+the appropriations, he availed himself of the power still vested in
+him to set aside this reserve and many other reserves for our children
+and our children's children--and then, gentlemen, true to his word, he
+signed the bill!"
+
+Judge Ware shook hands warmly with Mr. Shafer at the end of this
+speech 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 other
+cowmen came in with the day's gather of cattle he hastened out to tell
+them the news.
+
+"And now, gentlemen," he said, holding up his hand to stop the joyous
+yelling, "I wish to thank you one and all for your confidence in me
+and in the good faith of our Government. It called for a high order of
+manhood, I am sure; but in not offering any armed resistance to the
+incoming 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, he
+answered, 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, has
+there?" 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's
+linen duster, "excuse _me_, but that yaller letter stickin' out of your
+pocket looks kinder familiar. It's for me, ain't it? Um, thanks; this
+detective outfit back in St. Louie is tryin' to make me out a
+millionaire, or somethin' like that, and I'm naturally interested." He
+tore the letter open, extracted a second epistle from its depths and
+read it over gravely. "Well, boys," he observed, grinning cheerfully
+as he tucked it away in his shaps, "my luck always did run in
+bunches--_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. He
+was in the midst of a feverish packing, throwing away socks and
+grabbing up shirts, when a gay laugh from the house attracted his
+attention. He listened for a moment abstractedly; then he flew at his
+work once more, dumping everything he had out on his bed and stuffing
+what he needed back into his war bag; but when there came a second
+peal of laughter, he stopped and craned his neck.
+
+"Well--I'll--be--dam'd!" he muttered, as he recognized the voice, and
+then he flew at his work again, manhandling everything in sight. He
+was just roping his enormous bed, preparatory to depositing it in the
+bunk-house, when Kitty Bonnair stepped out of the house and came
+toward him, walking like a boy in her dainty riding suit. There was a
+great noise from the branding pen and as she approached he seemed very
+intent upon his work, wrestling with his bundle as if he were
+hog-tying a bull and using language none too choice the while, but
+Kitty waited patiently until he looked up.
+
+"Why, howdy do, Mr. Creede," she cried, smiling radiantly. "I got a
+new idea for my play just from seeing you do that work."
+
+The cowboy regarded her sombrely, took a nip or two with his rope's
+end, jerked the cords tight, and sat down deliberately on the bundle.
+
+"That's good," he said, wiping the sweat from his eyes. "How's
+tricks?" There was a shadow of irony in his voice but Kitty passed it
+by.
+
+"Fine and dandy," she answered. "How are you coming?"
+
+"Oh, pretty good," he conceded, rising up and surveying the
+battlefield, "and I reckon I ain't forgot nothin'," he added
+meaningly. He kicked his blanket roll, tied his war bag behind the
+saddle, and hitched up his overalls regally. "Sorry I ain't goin' to
+see more of you," he observed, slipping his six-shooter into his
+shaps, "but--"
+
+"What, you aren't _going_?" cried Kitty, aghast. "Why, I came all the
+way 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 that
+got snatched baldheaded to make the baby laugh."
+
+"You're nothing of the kind," retorted Kitty stoutly. "You're the hero
+in my play that's going to be _acted_ some day on the stage. You kill
+a 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! And
+won't I _ever_ see you any more?"
+
+"Well, you might," conceded the cowboy magnanimously, "if you wait
+around long enough."
+
+"But I _can't_ wait! I've got to finish my last act, and I came clear
+down here, just to hear you talk. You can't imagine how interesting
+you are, after living up there in the city," she added naively.
+
+"No," grumbled Creede, picking up his bridle lash, "but say, I've got
+to be goin'!" He hooked a boot negligently into the stirrup and looked
+back over his shoulder. "Anything else I can do for you?" he inquired
+politely.
+
+"Oh, you dear Jeff!" cried Kitty ecstatically, "yes! Do come back here
+and let me tell you!" He kicked his foot reluctantly out of the
+stirrup and stalked back, huge and commanding as ever, but with a
+puzzled look in his eye.
+
+"Bend your head down, so I can whisper it," she coaxed, and brute-like
+he bowed at her bidding. She whispered a moment eagerly, added a word,
+and pushed his head away. For a minute he stood there, thinking
+ponderously; then very deliberately he pulled his six-shooter out of
+his shaps and handed it over to her.
+
+"All right," he said, "but say"--he beckoned her with an inexorable
+jerk of the head--"what do _I_ git, now?" He looked down upon her as
+he had on the morning they had parted, out behind the corral, and the
+hot blood leaped into Kitty Bonnair's cheeks at the memory of that
+kiss. For a moment she hesitated, twisting her trim boot into the
+ground, then she drew the coveted pistol from her belt and handed it
+back.
+
+"Well, since you insist," he said, and very sternly he thrust the
+redeemed weapon back into his shaps. A change came over him as he
+regarded her; there was an austere tightening of his lips and his eyes
+glowed with a light that Kitty had never seen before.
+
+"That was a rough deal you gave me, girl," he said, his voice vibrant
+with anger, "and I ain't forgotten it. You dropped your rope over my
+horns 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, as
+far as I'm concerned--my hide's whole, and I'm rope-wise--but I'll
+tell you, Miss Kitty, if you'd jest keep this gun of mine and shoot
+some feller once in a while we'd all enjoy it more." He paused, and
+as Kitty stood downcast before this sudden censure he smiled to
+himself, and a twinkle of mischief crept into his masterful eyes.
+
+"But don't mind a little thing like that, girl," he said, throwing out
+his hands largely. "_You_ don't lose no friends by tryin' to educate
+us a little--ump-umm! Of course I'm kinder sore over that letter, but
+you 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 saw
+you." He laughed, showing all his white teeth, and at the same time
+his eyes were very grave.
+
+"Come over here," he said, "and I'll tell you what it was. No--I won't
+kiss you--come on up close." Wondering at her own acquiescence, Kitty
+Bonnair obeyed, and with a mysterious smile he stooped down until his
+lips were close to her ear.
+
+"You remind me of my girl," he whispered, "back in St. Louie!" And
+then with a great laugh he broke away and leapt triumphantly into the
+saddle.
+
+"_Whoop-eee_!" he yelled. "_Watch me fly_!" And spreading his arms
+like a bird he thundered away down the western trail.
+
+There was a strange stillness about the old ranch house when Kitty
+came back to it and she wondered vaguely where Lucy and Rufus were,
+but as she stepped inside the dirt _ramada_ the quiet seemed to lay
+its spell upon her and she halted by the doorway, waiting for a last
+glimpse of Jeff as he went up over the western rim. The bawling of
+cattle and the shrill yells of the cowboys no longer tempted her to
+the _parada_ ground--she was lonely, and there was no one who cared
+for her. Yet, somewhere within, she could hear the murmur of voices,
+and at last when she could endure it no longer she turned and entered
+quickly. The big living-room where they had so often sat together was
+vacant now, but Hardy's door was open, and as she looked in she saw
+them standing together--Lucy with downcast eyes, and Rufus, holding
+both her hands. It was all very innocent and lover-like, but when
+their 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 new
+dignity, 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.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hidden Water, by Dane Coolidge
+
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