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As they journeyed through the open country the sheep-herder's eye fell on a human figure, a man sitting on a rock above them to the left. Pedro gazed inquiringly; the man saluted and beckoned. This meant "friend"; had he motioned him to pass on it might have meant, "Keep away or I shoot." Pedro walked toward him a little way and sat down. The man came forward. It was Lan Kellyan, the hunter.
Dubois grinned understandingly and gave him work at half a sheep-herder's usual pay. Whatever the nature of Dr. Harpe's business with his employer, the interview appeared to have been eminently satisfactory to them both, for she was smiling broadly, while Dubois seemed not only excited but elated when they returned together. He looked after her buggy as she drove away, and chuckled
Near here we lunched at a sheep-herder's camp and heard an interesting story of the relocation of an old mine that had helped create the Squaw Valley excitement forty years before. Owing to new and improved methods of extracting the precious metal it is now deemed that this may soon develop into a paying property.
The preacher silently led the way to the sheep-herder's wagon which perched on the peak of a hill above the draw. "I don't have much to offer you but beans," he said as they dismounted. Douglas looked from the blood-stained gunny-sack to the clergyman's deep-set eyes, hesitated, then said, "Beans are good and the sheep-man's staple."
Thirty-thirty was a sinister number on the range it was the calibre of a sheep-herder's carbine. "Aw, go on," scoffed Bill Lightfoot, rushing over to examine the wound. "Who could have shot him away over in Hell's Hip Pocket?" "Um that's it," observed Creede significantly. "What you goin' to do, Rufe?" "I'm going over there," answered Hardy, throwing the saddle on his horse.
When the sheep-herder's shack loomed across their path, Slade commanded a halt. Then he gave orders to surround the building. As the men drew near the cabin the door opened suddenly and a man stepped out. Before he could close the door, Slade and Hawkins were upon him. Gregory and Billings darted for the open doorway as the light disappeared from within.
Far above him the solid whiteness of the fog wall was broken by irregular flashes of blue. To his ears came the sound of snapping spluttering flames. Covering his head with his arms, he crossed himself. The devil was speaking from the hilltop. On two other occasions he had heard the crackling of the flames near the old sheep-herder's shack on the crest of the hill. He had taken the wrong trail.
"Don't hurry away, old-timer! I want to talk to you." Scott stood rigidly, a forefinger in a buttonhole. "Don't get funny, Doug. This ain't a sheep-herder's war." "No, it's more serious than that," agreed Douglas. "You don't get the idea, Scott. You can't run the preacher out of the Valley, because I shall keep bringing him back. You can't burn down my chapel, because I shall keep building it up.
A faint gleam came into the sheep-herder's eyes. He raised his arm and pointed across through the woods. Bob reined his horse in the direction indicated. As he passed the last of the flock in that direction, he caught sight of another herder and two more dogs.
As for the mine, that was even more hopeless. No one had seriously attempted any prolonged search for the murderer, he assumed, knowing the region as it had been. Homicides were not regarded as seriously as in later days and a Basco sheep-herder's murder would arouse little interest. The mine, however, was a different thing, as he knew by the fact that even recent arrivals had heard of it.
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