to the porch, where public opinion was wont to formulate itself while
waiting for the mail to be distributed. Here twice a week it had sat for
many years, had heard evidence, passed judgment, condemned or acquitted.
For at this store the Malpais country bought its ammunition, its
tobacco, and its canned goods; and on this porch its opinions had sifted
down to convictions. From this common meeting ground the gossip of
Cattleland was scattered far and wide.

Weaver filled the doorway while he drew on his gauntlets. He was the
owner of the Twin Star outfit, the biggest cattle company in that
country. Nearly twenty years ago, while still a boy of eighteen, he had
begun in a small way. The Malpais had been a wild and lawless place
then, but in all the turbid days that followed Buck Weaver had held his
own ruthlessly by adroit manipulation, shrewd sense, and implacable
daring. Some outfits he had bought out; others he had driven away. Those
that survived were at a respectable distance from him. Only the
settlers in the hills remained to trouble him. He had come to be the big
man of the district, dominating its social, business, and political
activities.

"What's this I hear about another settler up on Bear Creek?" he asked
curtly after he had gathered up his bridle and swung to the saddle.

"That's the way Jim Budd's telling it, Mr. Weaver. Another nester
homesteaded there," old Joe Yeager answered casually, chewing tobacco
with a noncommittal air.

"Fine! There'll soon be a right smart settlement up near the headwaters
of the creeks, I shouldn't wonder. The cow business is getting to be a
mighty profitable one when you don't own any," Buck said dryly.