"The judge is in San Francisco," put in Swope curtly. "Now, suppose that _all_ of us sheepmen should decide that we wanted some of that good feed up on Bronco Mesa, and, suppose, furthermore, that we should all go up there, as we have a perfect legal right to do, what would you do?" "I don't know," replied Hardy politely. "Well, supposen I dropped a stick of dynamite under you," burst out Swope hoarsely, "would you jump? Speak up, man, you know what I'm talking about. You don't think you can stand off the whole Sheepmen's Protective Association, do you? Well, then, will ye abide by the law and give us our legal rights or will ye fight like a dam' fool and git sent to Yuma for your pains? That's what I want to know, and when you talk to me you talk to the whole Sheepmen's Association, with money enough in its treasury to send up every cowman in the Four Peaks country! What I want to know is this--will you fight?" "I might," answered Hardy quietly. "Oh, you might, hey?" jeered the sheepman, tapping his pipe ominously on the sidewalk. "You might, he-ey? Well, look at Jeff Creede--_he_ fought--and what's he got to show for it? Look at his old man--_he_ fought--and where is he now? Tell me that! "But, say, now," he exclaimed, changing his tone abruptly, "this ain't what I started to talk about. I want to speak with you, Mr. Hardy, on a matter of business. You jest think them things over until I see you again--and, of course, all this is on the q. t. But now let's talk business. When you want to buy a postage stamp you come down here to Moroni, don't you? And why? Why, because it's near, sure! But when you want a wagon-load of grub--and there ain't no one sells provisions cheaper than I do, beans four-fifty, bacon sixteen cents, flour a dollar-ninety, everything as reasonable--you haul it clean across the desert from Bender. That easy adds a cent a pound on every ton you pull, to say nothin' of the time. Well, what I want to know is this: Does Einstein sell you grub that much cheaper? Take flour, for instance--what does that cost you?" "I don't know," answered Hardy, whose anger was rising under this unwarranted commercial badgering. "Same as with you, I suppose--dollar-ninety." "Ah!" exclaimed Swope triumphantly, "and the extra freight on a sack would be fifty cents, wouldn't it--a cent a pound, and a fifty-pound sack! Well, now say, Hardy, we're good friends, you know, and all that--and Jasp and me steered all them sheep around you, you recollect--what's the matter with your buying your summer supplies off of me? I'll guarantee to meet any price that Bender Sheeny can make--and, of course, I'll do what's right by you--but, by Joe, I think you owe it to me!" He paused and waited impatiently for his answer, but once more Hardy balked him. "I don't doubt there's a good deal in what you say, Mr. Swope," he said, not without a certain weariness, "but you'll have to take that matter up with Judge Ware."