when we came West. We keep the descent still. We've never been without a
black horse in the stable since that time. Do we turn here?"

They were following the lower trail by the willows, when Jacobs turned
abruptly to a rough roadway leading up a shadowy hollow.

"Yes. It's an ugly climb, but much shorter to the sheep range and the
cattle are near."

"How much land have you here, Jacobs?" Asher asked.

"From Little Wolf to the corporation line of Wykerton. Five hundred acres,
more or less; all fenced, too," Jacobs added. "This creek divides Wyker's
ground from mine. All the rest is measured by links and chains. We agreed
to metes and bounds for this because it averages the same, anyhow, and I'd
like a stream between Wyker and myself in addition to a barbed wire fence.
It gives more space, at least."

They had followed the rough way only a short distance when Asher, who was
nearest the creek, halted. The bank was steep and several feet above the
water.

"Does anybody else keep sheep around here?" he inquired.

"Not here," John Jacobs answered.

"Look over there. Isn't that a sheep?"

Asher pointed to a carcass lying half out of the water on a pile of drift
where the stream was narrow, but too deep for fording.

"Maybe some dog killed it and the carcass got into the creek. My sheep
can't get to the water because my pasture is fenced. That's on Wyker's
side, anyhow. I won't risk fording to get over there. It's as dead right
now as it will ever be," Jacobs asserted.

Their trail grew narrower and more secluded, winding up a steep hill
between high banks. Half way up, where the road made a sharp turn, a break
in the side next to the creek opened a rough way down to the water. As
they neared this, a woman coming down the hill caught sight of the two
horsemen around the bend, and made a swift movement toward this opening in
the bank, as if to clamber down from their sight. She was not quick
enough, however, and when she found she had been seen, she waited by the
roadside until the men had passed on.

Asher, who was next to her, looked keenly at her as he bade her good
morning, but John Jacobs merely lifted his hat without giving her more
than a glance.

The woman stared at both, but made no response to their greetings. She was
plainly dressed, with a black scarf tied over her tow-colored hair. She
had a short club in one hand and a big battered tin can in the other,
which she seemed anxious to conceal. When th