o continue the march long in that direction,
since the higher mountains were directly ahead, and the way through them
was devious, and attended with many difficulties and dangers. On such a
drive the losses to him in time and strayed sheep would be disastrous.

Larkin had no desire to clash with the cattlemen unless it were absolutely
necessary, but he decided that his sheep should go through, since the free
range was his as well as another's. On that long night march, when the men
were behind the sheep, driving them, contrary to the usual custom, he told
Sims of his interview with Beef Bissell, and the herder cracked his
knuckles with rage at the position taken by the cowman.

"Send 'em through, Mr. Larkin," he advised, "and if the Bar T outfit start
anything I allow we'll return 'em as good as they give."

It was within an hour of dawn when the leaders of the flock lifted their
heads and gazed curiously at the line of trees that loomed before them
along the banks of the river. The next instant they had started forward on
a run, blethering the news of water back along the dim, heaving line. The
dust beneath their sharp feet rose up into a pall that hid the sky as the
whole flock got into motion.

Then dogs and men leaped forward, for now the blind singleness of purpose
that pervaded the animals was more disastrous than when they refused to
drink. Working madly, the dogs spread out the following herd so that all
should not crowd upon the same point of the river and drown the leaders.

It was unavoidable that some should be lost by being pushed into the
deeper waters north or south of the ford, but for the most part the
watering was successfully accomplished, and at the first glow of dawn the
animals were contentedly cropping the rich grasses in the low bottoms near
the river.

But the work was not yet finished.

When it had become light enough to see, the leaders were rounded up at the
ford, and, nipped into frenzy by the dogs, began the passage across the
shallow bar. With the leaders safely over it was only a matter of time
until the rest had followed, and by the time it was full day the last of
the tailers were feeding in the opposite bottoms.

For Bud Larkin this was a very serious dawn. He had cast the die for war
and led the invasion into the enemy's country. Any hope that the act might
remain unknown was shattered before the sheep had fairly forded the
stream. Against the brightening sky, on a distant rise