he Southern drawl was doing all the
talking, but as Hardy passed by, the other cut in on him again.

"Well," he demanded in masterful tones, "what ye goin' to do about
it?" Then, without waiting for an answer, he exclaimed:

"Hello, there, Mr. Hardy!"

"Hello," responded Hardy. "Who is this, anyway?"

"Jim Swope," replied the voice, with dignified directness. "What're
you doing in these parts?"

"Came down to buy a postage stamp," replied Hardy, following a habit
he had of telling the truth in details.

"Huh!" grunted Swope. "It's a wonder you wouldn't go to Bender for
it--that Jew over there might make you a rate!"

"Nope," responded Hardy, ignoring the too-evident desire of the Moroni
storekeeper to draw him into an argument. "He couldn't do it--they say
the Government loses money every time it sells one. Nice town you've
got down here," he remarked, by way of a parting compliment; but
Swope was not satisfied to let him escape so easily.

"Hold on, there!" he exclaimed, rousing up from his place. "What's
your bloody hurry? Come on back here and shake hands with Mr.
Thomas--Mr. Thomas is my boss herder up in Apache County. Thinking of
bringing him down here next Fall," he added laconically, and by the
subtle change in his voice Hardy realized intuitively that that move
had been the subject of their interrupted argument. More than that, he
felt vaguely that he himself was somehow involved in the discussion,
the more so as Mr. Thomas balked absolutely at shaking hands with
him.

"I hope Mr. Thomas will find it convenient to stop at the ranch," he
murmured pleasantly, "but don't let me interfere with your business."

"Well, I guess that's all to-night, Shep," remarked Swope, taking
charge of the situation. "I jest wanted you to meet Hardy while you
was together. This is the Mr. Hardy, of the Dos S outfit, you
understand," he continued, "and a white cowman! If you have to go
across his range, go quick--and tell your men the same. I want them
dam' tail-twisters up in that Four Peaks country to know that it pays
to be decent to a sheepman, and I'm goin' to show some of 'em, too,
before I git through! But any time my sheep happen to git on your
range, Mr. Hardy," he added reassuringly, "you jest order 'em off, and
Mr. Thomas here will see to it that they go!"

He turned upon his boss herder with a menacing gesture, as if charging
him with silence, and Thomas, whose sole contribution to the
conversation had been