Hell; and they'll go it blind. If it's coming dark, they'll shut their
eyes and go over blind. I defy Sheriff Flood, himself, if he's
standing on the spot to make a case--"

"You need have no fear of Sheriff Flood _ever_ being on the spot.
He'll be busy under his bed that night; but look out for these Federal
puppy-boy Forest Ranger fellows! Finish up off the confounded National
Range. Finish up before they reach the National Range."

"And the Mexican herders?" asked the sheep skin chaps with a flourish
of his band above the fire that showed the flash of a diamond on the
little finger.

The white vest spread deprecating hands.

"That's your business, Jim! Make a clean sweep of the herd; but see
that no harm comes to the boy."


The old frontiersman headed his broncho silently back on the trail.

"Night birds hatching snake eggs. A'm really between two minds to go
back and crack their addled heads."




CHAPTER V

THE CHOICE THAT COMES TO ALL MEN