stances I am
sorry for what I did, and wish I had it to do over again."

"As for the first, I don't deserve much credit. Juliet really saved her
own life by coming to us when I fired the warning shot. As to the sheep,
it's too late to think about them now; we'll come to another reckoning in
that matter later on. I'd hardly expect a horse-thief to do a trick like
that."

Bissell's tanned face turned a deep mahogany hue under the sting of this
remark, and his eyes lost the soft look they had held when he spoke of
Juliet.

"I'm willing to pay yuh the money loss," he replied, still anxious to make
amends.

"On guarantee, I suppose, that I don't try to bring the rest of my sheep
north."

"Yes."

"That's impossible, as you might know."

"I allow you're right foolish, Mr. Larkin; better think it over."

"I did that last night when the sheep went into the river," said Bud
dryly.

"I suppose so, but a night's sleep sometimes changes a man's mind."

"Not mine. The first night I was here I told you that I would bring my
sheep north, and I still intend to do it. I am always willing to meet a
man half-way; but you wouldn't meet me. Instead of that you started in to
ruin me. I have no objection to that, but you'd better take care that your
schemes don't work two ways."

Bissell shrugged his shoulders. He still had the upper-hand of the
situation, and his temper, in that case, was not hard to control.

"I allow I can look out for myself," he said.

"No doubt, but you had better look out for me," was the retort.

"I reckon I'll manage," remarked Bissell contemptuously. "But all this
isn't what I wanted to ask you. I'd be some pleased if you'd tell me about
them rustlers you were with."

"Why do you want to know about them?" countered Bud.

"Because they're ruinin' the cattle business. I dunno how many head they
run off last year, but I do know that profits were cut in half by 'em. You
was with 'em long enough to know some of 'em again, I allow?"

"Yes. I would know nearly all of them. What's left of three is out there
near the cottonwoods along Little River, but I don't believe there's
enough to bury."

"How is that?" inquired Bissell, who had evidently not heard of Larkin's
narrow escape from death at the rustler's hands.

Bud told him briefly.

"You shore were lucky," remarked the cowman with a Westerner's
appreciation of the situation. "Now, I'm the head of the cattlemen's
association in this part of the S