Eagle Creek announced bluntly.

"Where to?" Pink asked, too stunned to take in the meaning of it.

"T' hell, I guess. It's the only place I know of where everybody's
welcome." Eagle Creek's tone was not pleasant.

"We just came from there," Pink said simply, thinking of the horrors of
that drive.

"Where's Wooden Shoes?" snapped the old man; and the foreman's hat-crown
appeared at that instant over the ridge.

"Well, we're up against it," Eagle Creek greeted. "That damn' agent--or
the fellow he had workin' for him--reported his renting us pasture. Made
the report read about twice as many as we're puttin' on. He's got orders
now t' turn out every hoof but what b'longs there."

"My Lord!" Wooden Shoes gasped at the catastrophe which faced the Cross
L.

"That's Harry Conroy's work," Pink cut in sharply' "He'd hurt the Cross
L if he could, t' spite me and Rowdy. He--"

"Don't matter--seein' it's done. Yuh might as well turn the herd loose
right here, an' let 'em go t' the devil. I don't know what else t' do
with 'em."

"Anything gone wrong?" It was Rowdy, who had left his place and ridden
forward to see what was holding the herd back.

"Naw. We're fired off the reservation, is all. We got orders to take the
herd to hell. Eagle Creek's leased it. Mr. Satan is going to keep house
here in Montana; he says it's better for his trade," Pink informed him,
in his girlish treble.

Eagle Creek turned on him fiercely, then thought better of it and
grinned. "Them arrangements wouldn't make us any worse off'n what we
are," he commented. "Turn 'em loose, boys."

"Man, if yuh turn 'em loose here, the first storm that hits 'em, they
all die," Wooden Shoes interposed excitedly. "They ain't nothings for
'em. We had t' turn 'em into the Rockin' R field last night, t'
git water an' feed. Red Willow's gone dry outside dat field. They
ain't--nothings. They'll die!"

Eagle Creek looked at him dully. For the first time in his life he faced
utter ruin. "Damn 'em, let 'em die, then!" he said.

"That's what they'll sure do," Wooden Shoes reiterated stubbornly. "If
they don't git feed and water now, yuh needn't start no round-up next
spring."

Pink's eyes went down over the close-huddled backs and the thicket
of polished horns, and his eyelids stung. Would all of them die, he
wondered! Four thousand! He hoped not. There must be some way out. Down
the hill, he knew the cowboys were making cigarettes while they waited
and wondered m