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Updated: June 22, 2025
But one thing Hardy promised himself forgetting that it was the bootless oath of old Bill Johnson, who was crazy now and hiding in the hills he would kill the first sheep that set foot on Bronco Mesa, and the next, as long as he could shoot; and Jasp Swope might answer as he would.
You've listened to that blat until it's a part of ye; you've run with them Mexicans until you're kin to 'em; you're a coward, Jasp Swope, and I always knowed it." He paused again, his eyes glowing with the hatred that had overmastered his being. "My God," he said, "if I could only git you to fight to-day I'd give everything I've got left!"
The big cowboy leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing as he half guessed the plan. "We ride out together," said Hardy, his voice far away, as if he saw it in his mind's eye, "unarmed and we notify every sheep-herder we see to move. If Jasp Swope or any of his men kill us while we're unarmed it'll be cold-blooded murder, and there'll be witnesses to prove it.
"Oh, he hain't, hey?" sneered the sheepman, showing his jagged teeth. "He seems to have one now." "You betcher neck I have," cried Creede, flaring up at the implication, "and if you're lookin' for trouble, Jasp Swope, you can open up any time." "W'y what's the matter with you?" protested Swope righteously. "You must have somethin' on your mind, the way you act."
In his other hand he held a horn, knocked from the bleaching skeleton of a steer that had died by the water, and to its end where the tip had been sawed off he applied the red-hot iron, burning a hole through to the hollow centre. "Jim," he said, turning to one of the Clark boys, "do you want a little excitement to-morrow? Well then, you take this old horn and go play hide 'n' seek with Jasp.
But my God, boy, it hurts my feelin's to think of you all alone up here, tryin' to appeal to Jasp Swope's better nature." He twisted his lips, and shrugged his huge shoulders contemptuously. Then without enthusiasm he said: "Well, good luck," and rode away after his cattle.
So the word passed around amongst the herders and camp rustlers, and Jim and Jasp rode from one camp to the other, cursing and exhorting and holding them to their work. The hour of victory had come, but their triumph was poisoned by a haunting fear for their sheep.
This little bandy-legged son-of-a-goat that I jumped at down in Bender actually had the nerve to say that I killed Juan Alvarez myself. Think of that, will ye, and me twenty miles away at the time! But I reckon if you took Jasp to pieces you'd find out he was mad over them three thousand wethers value six dollars per that I stompeded. The dastard! D'ye see how he keeps away from me?
"Jest in time!" said Creede, grinning his welcome, "we're goin' over into Hell's Hip Pocket to-morrow the original hole in the ground to bring out Bill Johnson's beef critters, and I sure wanted you to make the trip. How'd you git along with Jasp?" "All right," responded Hardy, "he didn't make me any trouble. But I'm glad to get away from that sheep smell, all the same."
Not one of those veiled threats and intimations had he confided to Creede, for the orders from Judge Ware had been for peace and Jeff was hot-headed and hasty; but in his own mind Hardy pictured a solid phalanx of sheep, led by Jasp Swope and his gun-fighting Chihuahuanos, drifting relentlessly in over the unravaged mesa.
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