"How so?"

"Because there's grass everywhere. I see no sense in a sheepman goin'
out of his way to surround a cattleman an' sheep off his range. That
started the row. Lord knows how it'll end. For most all of them heah
are from Texas."

"So I was told," replied Jean. "An' I heard' most all these Texans
got run out of Texas. Any truth in that?"

"Shore I reckon there is," she replied, seriously. "But, stranger,
it might not be healthy for y'u to, say that anywhere. My dad, for
one, was not run out of Texas. Shore I never can see why he came heah.
He's accumulated stock, but he's not rich nor so well off as he was
back home."

"Are you goin' to stay here always?" queried Jean, suddenly.

"If I do so it 'll be in my grave, " she answered, darkly. "But what's
the use of thinkin'? People stay places until they drift away. Y'u can
never tell. . . . Well, stranger, this talk is keepin' y'u."

She seemed moody now, and a note of detachment crept into her voice.
Jean rose at once and went for his horse. If this girl did not desire
to talk further he certainly had no wish to annoy her. His mule had
strayed off among the bleating sheep. Jean drove it back and then led
his horse up to where the girl stood. She appeared taller and, though
not of robust build, she was vigorous and lithe, with something about
her that fitted the place. Jean was loath to bid her good-by.