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The sheepman laughed in his ironic fashion. His amusement mocked them both. "Most as good as a play of the movies, ain't it? But we'd ought all to have our guns out to make it realistic." But in his heart he did not jeer. For the situation had been nearer red tragedy than melodrama.
"Probably the same way that he knows we are talking about him now." All eyes were directed toward the cook. Hicks was limping around the mutton kettle, shaking his fist at it and berating it, though in a voice too low for them to hear. "That's one of your cattle men for you," chuckled Mr. Simms. "I think he would take genuine pleasure in boiling a sheepman in his pot.
Let him give his parole to come to me whenever I send for him, no matter where he may be, to quit whatever he is doing right that instant, and come on the jump. If he wants to leave it that way, we'll call it a bargain." Again the rapier-thrust of their eyes crossed. The sheepman was satisfied with what he saw in the face of his foe. "All right.
Mackenzie began to think with Dad Frazer that he was not a lucky man. Too simple and too easy, too trusting and too slow, as they thought of him in the sheep country. A sort of kindly indictment it was, but more humiliating because it seemed true. No, he was not cut out for a sheepman, indeed, nor for anything but that calm and placid woman's work in the schoolroom, it seemed.
"What happened then?" cried Thomas, his eyes burning. "Well, you ought to know I was sheeped out." "Sheeped out? Why, how could that happen? You were a sheepman yourself!" The boss herder contemplated him with an amused and cynical smile. "You ask Jim Swope," he suggested. For a minute Hardy sat staring at him, bewildered.
He was the first sheepman on this range, and he had to fight to hold his own, I'm here to say!" "You'd better send the kid over into peaceful territory," Mackenzie suggested, crabbedly. "No, the old man wants him to get a taste of what he went through to make his start he was tickled to the toes when he heard the way them Hall boys are rarin' up and you standin' 'em off of this range of mine.
At the precise time that Daniel Pratt was entering Cheyenne County from the East, a Mexican sheepman was moving toward the Cannon Ball from the Southwest, walking behind ten thousand sheep, leaving a dusty, bare and stinking trail behind him. Williams' report drew the attention of the cattlemen, and the Pratts were for the time forgotten.
Then you've overlooked something! I've lived in this country for nigh onto twenty years, and followed most every line of business, but I didn't make my pile punching cows, nor running a store, neither I made it raising sheep. Started in with nothing at the time of the big drought in '92, herding on shares. Sheep did well in them good years that followed, and first thing I knew I was a sheepman.
"I'll attend to that, Miss Cullison. I am in Fendrick's room now. Make your mind easy." Bucky hung up and turned to the sheepman. The latter showed him a face of derision. He had gathered one thing that disquieted him, but he did not intend to let O'Connor know it. "Well?" he jeered. "Find friend Cullison in tolerable health?" "I've been talking with his daughter." "I judged as much.
Grabbing up his six-shooter he stood like a prophet of destruction calling down the wrath of God Himself, if there was a God, upon the head of every sheepman. But even as he cursed the first dirty brown wave spewed in over the ridge and swept down upon their valley.
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