rs stopped at the cabin, were fed and housed
and went on their way. They came chiefly from the T-Bar-T ranch--some
few from Concho, a cattle outfit of the lower country. Pete
intuitively disliked these men, despite the fact that they rode
excellent horses, sported gay trappings, and "joshed" with him as
though he were one of themselves. His instinct told him that they were
not altogether friendly to Annersley. They frequently drifted into
warm argument as to water-rights and nesters in general--matters that
did not interest Young Pete at the time, who failed, naturally, to
grasp the ultimate meaning of the talk. But the old man never seemed
perturbed by these arguments, declining, in his good-natured way, to
take them seriously, and feeling secure in his own rights, as a
hard-working citizen, to hold and cultivate the allotment he had earned
from the Government.

The T-Bar-T outfit especially grudged him the water that they had
previously used to such good advantage. This water was now under
fence. To make this water available to cattle would disrupt the
homestead. It was at this time that Young Pete first realized the
significance of these hard-riding visitors. He was cleaning his
much-polished carbine, sitting cross-legged round the corner of the
cabin, when two of the chance visitors, having washed and discarded
their chaps, strolled out and squatted by the doorway. Old man
Annersley was at the back of the cabin preparing supper.

One of the riders, a man named Gary, said something to his companion
about "running the old man out of the country."

Young Pete paused in his task.

"You can't bluff him so easy," offered the companion.

"But a thirty-thirty kin talk business," said the man Gary, and he
laughed.

Pete never forgot the remark nor the laugh. Next day, after the riders
had departed, he told his pop what he had heard. The old man made him
repeat the conversation. He shook his head. "Mostly talk," he said.

"They dassent to start runnin' _us_ off--dast they?" queried Young Pete.

"Mostly talk," reiterated Annersley; but Pete saw that his pop was
troubled.

"They can't bluff us, eh, pop?"

"I reckon not, son. How many cartridges you got?"

Young Pete thrilled to the question. "Got ten out of the last box.
You got any?"

"Some. Reckon we'll go to town to-morrow."

"To git some cartridges?"

"Mebby."

This was Young Pete's first real intimation that there might be trouble
that