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Updated: May 24, 2025
Ross composed himself, and told his story briefly. "I'm at Kettle Ranch post-office. Now listen. The limit of the cattle-man's ferocity has been reached. As I rode down here, to get into communication with a doctor for a sick herder, I came upon the scene of another murder and burning. The fire is still smouldering; at least two bodies are in the embers."
For a long time the ranger sat on his horse, peering down into those ashes until at last it became evident to his eyes that at least two sheep-herders had been sacrificed on the cattle-man's altar of hate and greed. All about on the sod the story was written, all too plain. Two men, possibly three, had been murdered cut to pieces and burned not many hours before.
His face, seen from the side, was older and sterner than she had thought it, but it was very attractive in line. She said: "Mr. Redfield and I were talking of 'the war' to-day I mean our 'cattle-man's invasion' and I learned that you were the sergeant who came for the prisoners." He smiled. "Yes; I was serving in the regular army at that time." "You must have been very young?" "I was a kid."
The cow-boy stood twirling his hat and looking at the little kneeling figures; the cattle-man's vision seemed dimmed; while in the eyes of the travelling man there shone a distant look a look across snow-filled prairies to a warmly lighted home. The children were soon asleep. Then the rest of us engaged in earnest conversation. What should we give them? was the question.
"Well," panted Brayley, "what are you waitin' for? I'll lick you yet!" Conniston came on, stepping slowly, cautiously. Brayley stood still, his clenched fists at his waist, his back against the fence. His eyes left the other's face for a second and ran to the broken hand swinging at his side. A quick light of understanding leaped into the big cattle-man's face, and he laughed softly.
Here in the sweet autumn air the reek of the cattle-man's vengeance rose like some hideous vapor, poisonous and obscene. The ranger sickened as the bloody tale unfolded itself before him. Then a fierce hate of such warfare flamed in his heart. Could this enormity be committed under any other civilized flag?
"It's easy!" said Shoop, gesturing toward the Loring rancho as they passed. "Goin' to bush at the water-hole to-night?" "No. We'll go through." Shoop whistled. "Suits me! And I reckon the team is good for it." He glanced sideways at Corliss, who sat with eyes fixed straight ahead. The cattle-man's face was expressionless. He was thinking hard and fast, but chose to mask it.
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