month."

"Oh, sheep-herding!" Her disdain implied that if he were fit for nothing
better than sheep-herding, the West could find precious little use for
him.

"It was all I could get to do."

"Where did you say you wrangled Mary's little lamb?"

"In the Catalinas."

"Whose outfit?"

Question and answer were tossed back and forth lightly, but both were
watching warily.

"Outfit?" he repeated, puzzled.

"Yes. Who were you working for?"

"Don't remember his name. He was a Mexican."

"Must have been one of the camps of Antonio Valdez."

"Yes, that's it. That's the name."

"Only he runs his sheep in the Galiuros," she demurred.

"Is it the Galiuros? Those Spanish names! I can't keep them apart in my
mind."

She laughed with hard, young cruelty. "It is hard to remember what you
never heard, isn't it?"

The man was on the rack. Tiny beads of perspiration stood out on his
forehead. But he got a lip smile into working order.

"Just what do you mean, Miss Lee?"

"You had better get your story more pat. I've punched a dozen holes in it
already. First you tell me you are from the East, and even while you were
telling me I knew you were a Southerner from the drawl. No man ever got
lost from Mammoth. You gave a false name. You said you had been herding
sheep, but you didn't know what an outfit is. You wobbled between the
Galiuros and the Catalinas."

"I'm not a native. I told you I couldn't remember Spanish names."

"It wasn't necessary to tell me," she countered quickly. "A man that can't
recall even the name of his boss!"

"I'm not in the witness box, Miss Lee," he told her stiffly.

"Not yet, but you're liable to be soon, I reckon."

"In a cattle rustling case, I suppose you mean."

"No, I don't." She went on with her indictment of his story, though his
thrust had brought the color to her cheek. "When I offered you Antonio
Valdez for an employer you jumped at him. If you want to know, he happens
to be our herder. He doesn't own a sheep and never will."

"You know all about it," he said with obvious sarcasm.

"I know you're not who you say you are."

"Perhaps you know who I am then."

"I don't know or care. It's none of my business. But others may think it
is theirs. You can't be so reckless with the truth without folks having
notions. If I were you I'd get a story that will hang together."

"You're such a good detective. Maybe I could get you to invent one for
me," he suggested maliciously.