o lose a whit of his anger. Do what he could, plan as he
might, he was beaten, and beaten at every turn. He had to deal with a
man whose cunning and ingenuity were far above the average; a man who,
combining a rare courage and a wonderful accuracy in shooting with
devilish strategy, towered far above the ordinary rustler and outlaw.
Sneed knew that he was absolutely at the mercy of his persistent enemy
and wondered why it was that he did not steal up in the night and kill
the outfit as it slept, which was entirely feasible. Finally, when the
strain had grown too much for even his iron nerves the sheriff was
implored to take command on the ranch and give it his personal
protection. The relations between the sheriff and the ranch were not
as cordial as they might have been, and the asking of this favor was
gall and wormwood to the foreman and his outfit.

When Shields arrived to take charge of the trouble, accompanied by Charley
and two others, he sought the foreman, for Charley had news of a grave
nature for the Cross Bar-8.

The foreman ran out of the bunk house and met them near the corral, where
the disagreement had taken place.

"By the living God, Sheriff!" he cried, white with anger. "This thing
has got to stop if we have to call out the cavalry! We can't get a
decent breakfast--not a whole plate or pan in the house! Our cayuses
and cows are being slaughtered by the score! And as for the rest of our
possessions, they are so full of holes that they whistle when the wind
blows!"

"So I heard," replied the sheriff. "I'll do my best."

"We've been doing our best, but what good is it?" cried the foreman. "We
are so plumb sleepy we go to sleep moving about! We dassent show our faces
after dark without being made a target of! Our new wagons are wrecks, the
corrals destroyed and the best grass made us fight for our lives while it
burned! That cursed outlaw has got to be killed, d----n him!"

"We'll do our best, Sneed," responded Shields. "I reckon we can stop it;
at least we can give you a good night's rest."

"Where are my five punchers?" Sneed asked; his words bellowed until his
voice broke. "And Bucknell! D----n near dead before you found him above
the canyon, tied up like a package of flour!"

"Well, Charley can tell you about your men," Shields responded, viewing
the devastation on all sides of him.

"Well, what about them?" cried the foreman turning to the sheriff's
deputy, anger flashing anew in his eyes.