rs at night, if it came
to that. But what, reasoned the cautious ones, were a few hundred
head of cows anyhow, in a losing fight against the law itself? What
was a petty revenge upon some low-browed Mexican to the years of
imprisonment in Yuma which might follow? There were some among that
little band of cowmen who yelled for action, others who were disgusted
enough to quit, and others yet who said nothing, riding by themselves
or exchanging furtive glances with Creede. The Clark boys, Ben
Reavis, and Juan Ortega--these were the men whom the _rodeo_ boss
knew he could trust, and none of them spoke a word.

Worn and haggard from his night's riding, Rufus Hardy rode along with
Judge Ware and the ladies, explaining the situation to them. The
sheep had come in from the far east, crossing where sheep had never
crossed before, at the junction of Hell's Hip Pocket Creek and the
drought-shrunk Salagua. They had poured into the Pocket in solid
columns, sheeping it to the rocks, and had taken the pass before
either he or Bill Johnson could get to it. All through the night the
sheepmen had been crowding their flocks through the defile until
there were already twenty or thirty thousand on Bronco Mesa, with
fifty thousand to follow. Bill Johnson had shot his way through
the jam and disappeared into the Pocket, but he could do nothing
now--his little valley was ruined. There would not be a spear of
grass left for his cattle, and his burros had already come out with
the pack animals of the sheepmen. No one knew what had happened when
he reached his home, but the Mexican herders seemed to be badly
scared, and Johnson had probably tried to drive them out of the
valley.

All this Hardy explained in a perfectly matter-of-fact way, free from
apprehension or excitement; he listened in respectful silence to Judge
Ware's protests against violence and threats of instant departure; and
even humored Kitty's curiosity by admitting that Mr. Johnson, who was
apparently out of his head when he shot the sheep, had probably taken
a shot or two at the herders, as well. But Lucy Ware was not deceived
by his repose; she saw the cold light in his eyes, the careful
avoidance of any allusion to his own actions, and the studied
concealment of his future intent. But even then she was not prepared
when, after supper, her father came into the ranch house and told her
that Mr. Hardy had just resigned.

"I can't imagine why he should leave me at this time," e