--do not hurry--look at
the nice grass!" But despite this friendly admonition the herders
still yelled and whistled at their sheep, jabbing them spitefully with
the sharp muzzles of their rifles until at last, all riot and
confusion, they fled away bleating into the west.

CHAPTER XVIII

BAD BLOOD

The sheep were on the run, drifting across Bronco Mesa as if the devil
was after them, and Creede could hardly stay on his horse from
laughing--but when he drew near to Hidden Water his face changed.
There was a fresh sheep trail in the canyon and it led away from the
ranch. He spurred forward like the wind, his eyes upon the tracks, and
when he came in sight of the house he threw down his hat and swore. Of
all the God-forsaken places in Arizona, the Dos S Ranch was the worst.
The earth lay bare and desolate before it; the woodpile had
disappeared; the bucket was thrown down the well. Never had the flat,
mud buildings seemed so deserted or Tommy so tragic in his welcome.
The pasture gate was down and even that holy of holies, the branding
corral, stunk of sheep. Only the padlocked house had been respected,
and that perforce, since nothing short of a sledgehammer could break
its welded chain.

Unfastening the battered door they entered the living-room which once
had been all light and laughter. There lay the dishes all clean and
orderly on the table, the floors swept, the beds made, some withered
flowers on Hardy's desk.

"Huh," grunted Creede, looking it over coldly, "we're on the bum, all
right, all right, now. How long since they went away?"

"'Bout a year," replied Hardy, and his partner did not contradict
him.

They cooked a hasty meal and ate it, putting the scraps in the
frying-pan for Tommy.

"Go to it, Tom," said Creede, smiling wistfully as the cat lapped away
at the grease. "He never could git used to them skirts rustlin' round
here, could he?" And then there was a long silence.

Tommy sat up and washed his face contentedly, peering about with
intent yellow eyes and sniffing at the countless odors with which his
world was filled--then suddenly with a low whining growl he lashed
across the room like a tiger and leapt up into his cat hole. This was
a narrow tunnel, punched through the adobe wall near the door and
boxed in with a projecting cribbing to keep out the snakes and skunks.
Through it when his protectors were away he could escape the rush of
pursuing coyotes, or sally forth with equal fer