myself," replied the girl, with composure. "That, to say the least,
was not nice. An' I don't want anyone thinkin' better of me than I
deserve. My mother died in Texas, an' I've lived out heah in this
wild country--a girl alone among rough men. Meetin' y'u to-day makes
me see what a hard lot they are--an' what it's done to me."

Jean smothered his curiosity and tried to put out of his mind a growing
sense that he pitied her, liked her.

"Are you a sheep herder?" he asked.

" Shore I am now an' then. My father lives back heah in a canyon.
He's a sheepman. Lately there's been herders shot at. Just now we're
short an' I have to fill in. But I like shepherdin' an' I love the
woods, and the Rim Rock an' all the Tonto. If they were all, I'd
shore be happy."

"Herders shot at!" exclaimed Jean, thoughtfully. "By whom?
An' what for?"

"Trouble brewin' between the cattlemen down in the Basin an' the
sheepmen up on the Rim. Dad says there'll shore be hell to pay.
I tell him I hope the cattlemen chase him back to Texas."

"Then-- Are you on the ranchers' side? " queried Jean, trying to
pretend casual interest.

"No. I'll always be on my father's side," she replied, with spirit.
"But I'm bound to admit I think the cattlemen have the fair side of
the argument."