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Updated: May 25, 2025
"D'ye think I want some little suckin' mamma's-joy of a diplomat on my hands when it comes to a show-down with them sheepmen?" he cried. "No, by God, I want a man, and you're the boy, Rufe; so shake!" He rose and held out his hand. Hardy took it. "I wouldn't have sprung this on you, pardner," he continued apologetically, "if I didn't see you so kinder down in the mouth about your old man.
"I've got a hunch," he said, "that these sheepmen are hanging back until you boys are gone, in order to raid the upper range. I don't know anything, you understand, but I'm looking for trouble. How does it look to you?" "Well," answered Creede sombrely, "I don't mind tellin' you that this is a new one on me.
Both sides had ceased firing. Then an idea occurred to Whitey. Why did not the sheepmen escape from the back of the house? A volley of shots from the other side of the valley seemed to answer the question. Under cover of the darkness Mart Cooley had sent half his men to a point that commanded the rear of the ranch house. Their shots sounded continuously for a moment and told a plain story.
He said a lot about my bein' sent for to run sheep herders out of the country." "Shore that's all over," replied Blaisdell, seriously. "You're a marked man already." "What started such rumor?" "Shore you cain't prove it by me. But it's not taken as rumor. It's got to the sheepmen as hard as bullets." "Ahuh! That accunts for Colter's seemin' a little sore under the collar.
It was free land. Anybody could graze there. It was a fine thing for a man with thousands of sheep not to have to pay a cent for their food, wasn't it?" "Of course." "You would have thought there would have been enough for everybody to feed their stock peaceably, wouldn't you?" "Yes, indeed!" "Well now, it didn't work out so at all. The sheepmen and the cattlemen came to actual war.
The sheepmen, on the other hand, complained because the cattle loving to stand in the water waded into the water-holes and spoiled them. Each faction tried to crowd the other off the range. Dreadful things happened. Vaqueros, or cowboys, would dash on horseback right into the midst of a flock and scatter the sheep in every direction.
And the shirt-sleeved band swung off down the street in the direction of the little cottage where the Great Man lived. All Benton fell in behind clerks and bar-keeps and sheepmen and cowboys tumbling into fours. Under the yellow flare of the kerosene torches they went down the street like a campaigning company in rout step, scattering din and dust.
Whitey did not know that they were soaked in oil, brought along for the purpose of firing the house. There had been no rain for a week, so the roof was dry, and soon narrow, snake-like lines of flame began to creep across it. Whitey thought of the feelings of the imprisoned sheepmen, knowing what was going on overhead, but helpless to prevent it. It seemed that they surely must make some effort.
But Buck was lying out there on the plain; that is, the mortal Buck was. The other Buck was probably with his friend Tom. At last Whitey's curiosity could hold him back no longer, and he crept forward to the front line of men, keeping well to one side. They had ceased firing, the house was dark. And the sheepmen there had ceased firing too.
But who downed that fella? Why, the sheepmen themselves. It would hurt their business. And the funny part of it is them sheepmen was willin' enough to ship sick sheep anywhere they could sell 'em. But some States was wise. California, she put a inspection tax of twenty-five dollars on every carload of stock enterin' her State or on one animal; didn't make no difference.
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