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"Well, they won't do it if I can help it." Yet be realized how powerless he was at that moment to defeat their nefarious plans. Somehow they were going to urge the real cattle men to use highhanded measures to destroy Mr. Simms's flock. They were going to scatter them, and then these men were going to make off with all they could drive away.
"If he is, he knows, at least, enough to mind his own business," snapped Tad. A jeering laugh followed the remark. "Did ye mean that fer me?" demanded the mountain boy, rising angrily. "If the coat fits, put it on," answered the freckle-faced boy indifferently, vaulting lightly into the saddle. "I'll bet that's Boss Simms's kid the pale-faced dude, eh?" sneered one sharply.
There were no public libraries, no colleges worthy of the name; there was no art, no science, still worse, no literature but Simms's: there was no desire for them. We do not say it in reproach; we are simply stating a fact, and are quite aware that the North is far behind Europe in these things.
Good! Give it to them!" fairly screamed the lad, rising in his stirrups, waving his hat and continuing his words of encouragement to the men of Mr. Simms's outfit. What mattered it whether they could hear him or not? A rattling fire was running along both lines of men. But the sheep killers, now content to ride down the sheep, were shooting back at their assailants.
Simms's confession to the master, touching the trick played on Charles Channing, he had not led the most agreeable of lives. Some of the boys treated him with silent contempt, some worried his life out of him, and all hated him. He could now enjoy a little bit of retaliation on one of them, at any rate.
"Who are you? What do you mean prowling around this time of the night?" "I'm Luke Larue, of the Simms's outfit, and I want to see you." "Oh, hello, Luke. Thought there was something familiar about your voice. I'll be down in a minute. Anybody with you?" "Yes, friend. Hurry up." Cavanagh opened the front door, peering out suspiciously before he permitted his caller to enter. "Wait a minute.
He did not wish to try to go straight through the herd. He had gone but a little way before he saw that the man had observed him and was now riding around the upper end of the flock to meet him. "Hello, what do you want?" shouted the fellow. "I want to find Mr. Simms's ranch. Is it anywhere near here?" "Two miles up that way. Where'd you come from?" "I don't know. I've been lost in the mountains.
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