He smiled mysteriously as he spoke, staving off their pointed queries with equivocal answers. "See you later," he observed, turning his horse into a sheep trail, and with that the outfit was forced to be content. The offending sheep were found feeding along the eastern slope of a long ridge that led down from the upper ground, and the herders were camped on the summit. There were four men gathered about the fire and as the cowboys approached three of them picked up their carbines and sat off to one side, fingering the locks nervously. The appearance of Jeff Creede spelled trouble to all sheepmen and there were few camps on Bronco Mesa which did not contain a herder who had been unceremoniously moved by him. But this time the fire-eating cowman rode grandly into camp without any awe-inspiring demonstrations whatever. "Are those your sheep?" he inquired, pointing to the grazing herd. "_Si senor_," responded the boss herder humbly. "Very well," said Creede, "move 'em, and move 'em quick. I give you three days to get through that pass." He stretched a heavily muscled arm very straight toward the notch in the western hills and turned abruptly away. Hardy swung soberly in behind him and the frightened Chihuahuanos were beginning to breathe again after their excitement when suddenly Jeff stopped his horse. "Say," he said, turning to the boss, "what you carryin' that cow's horn for?" At this pointed inquiry the boss herder flinched and looked downcast, toying uneasily with the primitive instrument at his side. "To blow," he answered evasively. "Well, go ahead and blow it, then," suggested Creede amiably. "No--go on! _I_ don't care what happens. Aw here, let me have it a minute!" He grabbed the horn away impatiently, wiped the mouthpiece with his sleeve, drew a long breath, and blew. A deep bass roar answered to his effort, a bellow such as the skin-clad hunters of antiquity sent forth when they wound the horn for their hounds, and the hills and valleys of Carrizo and the upper mesa echoed to the blast. "Say, that's great!" exclaimed the big cowboy, good-naturedly resisting the appeals of the herder. "I used to have one like that when I was a boy. Oh, I'm a blower, all right--listen to this, now!" He puffed out his chest, screwed his lips into the horn, and blew again, loud and long. "How's that for high?" he inquired, glancing roguishly at his partner. "And I could keep it up all day," he added, handing the horn back, "only I've got business elsewhere." "_Oyez, amigo_," he said, bending his brow suddenly upon the Mexican herder, "remember, now--in three days!" He continued the sentence by a comprehensive sweep of the hand from that spot out through the western pass, favored each of the three Chihuahuanos with an abhorrent scowl, and rode slowly away down the hogback.