Farnum did not need to explain the reasons for his sentiments. Everybody present knew that he was the leader of that bunch of cattlemen who had bunched themselves together to resist the encroachments of sheep upon the range. Among these the feeling against Morse was explosively dangerous. It had found expression in more than one raid upon his sheep. Many of them had been destroyed by one means or another, but Morse, with the obstinacy characteristic of him, had replaced them with others and continually increased his herds. There had been threats against his life, and one of his herders had been wounded. But the mine-owner went his way with quiet fearlessness and paid no attention to the animosity he had stirred up. The general feeling was that the trouble must soon come to a head. Nobody expected the rough and ready vaqueros, reckless and impulsive as they were, to submit to the loss of the range, which meant too the wiping out of their means of livelihood, without a bitter struggle that would be both lawless and bloody. Wherefore there was silence after Farnum had spoken, broken at length by the amiable voice of the fat ranchman, Baker. "Well, we'll see what we'll see," he wheezed complacently. "And anyways I got to have some horseshoe plug, Melissy." The girl laughed nervously as she reached for what he wanted. "You're a safe prophet, Mr. Baker," she said. "He'd be a safe one if he'd prophesy that Jack Flatray would have Mr. Hold-up in the calaboose inside of three days," put in a half-grown lad in leathers. "I ain't so sure about that. You'll have to show me, and so will Mr. Deputy Sheriff Flatray," retorted Farnum. A shadow darkened the doorway. "Good afternoon, gentlemen all--and Miss Lee," a pleasant voice drawled. The circle of eyes focused on the new-comer and saw a lean, muscular, young fellow of medium height, cool and alert, with the dust of the desert on every sunbaked inch of him. "I'm damned if it ain't Jack here already!" gasped Baker. CHAPTER VII WATERING SHEEP The deputy glanced quietly round, nodded here and there at sight of the familiar face of an acquaintance, and spoke to the driver. "Let's hear you say your little piece again, Jose." The Mexican now had it by heart, and he pattered off the thing from beginning to end without a pause. Melissy, behind the counter, leaned her elbows on it and fastened her eyes on the boyish face of the officer. In her heart she was troubled. How much did he know? What could he discover from the evidence she had left? He had the reputation of being the best trailer and the most fearless officer in Arizona. But surely she had covered her tracks safely. From Jose the ranger turned to Alan. "We'll hear your account of it now, seh," he said gently.