"Buster belongs to Judith now. I've been trying to get time to break that dapple gray Young Jeff gave me, after the trial. He's a good horse. Darned if I don't think I can ride him now!" "I know that horse and he is a good one," agreed Charleton. "Ride the young moose if you can stick on him. You'll need all his wind and limb on this trip!" and Charleton trotted away. It was full starlight that night when Douglas freed his feet from the stirrups before Charleton's door and jumped like lightning from the saddle. His horse jumped with him, landing in the kitchen as Douglas brought up against the door-jamb. There was a roar of laughter from within, and as the horse lunged backward out of the door, Charleton appeared. "So you and the moose are here! Better hobble him, Doug!" Douglas laughed and tied the rearing horse to a hayrack. Then he followed Charleton into the kitchen. Scott Parsons was sitting by the table, hat on the back of his head, spurred boots on the cold stove hearth. Mrs. Falkner was just finishing the supper dishes. She greeted Douglas with a tired smile. Douglas, with a resentful glance at Scott, shifted his gun belt, shoved his own hat to the back of his head, and sat down. Mrs. Falkner pitched the dish water out the back door and went into the next room. "Well, fellows," said Charleton cheerfully, as he tipped back his chair and established his spurs beside Scott's, "there's a neat little job on the horizon. You both know the big canyon beyond Lost Chief Peak, that has the little creek that disappears under the range?" The young men nodded, and Charleton continued. "A Mormon named Elijah Nelson has settled there. I'm not certain of all he intends to do but I know this much: He's to homestead that canyon up there and hog the water rights on the creek. He's to be followed by nine other Mormon families. Some of 'em are going to raise cattle in the canyon. Some of 'em are going into the sheep business in the plains country beyond the canyon, where we Lost Creek folks have been in the habit of wintering our herd when the snow's too deep here. Some of us older Lost Chief men realize that these folks are the beginning of a march of Mormons up from Utah to run us Lost Chief folks out. And we're going to harry them till they are sick of living. Mormons and sheep must keep out of this country." Douglas' eyes burned and his breath came quickly. Scott's hard young eyes did not flicker. "We're going to ride over the range to-morrow night and the next morning gather up what we can of Nelson's herd that's grazing on Lost Chief. We'll bring 'em to a certain place I know of. I'll divide half to me, the other half to you two. Are you game?" "I sure am," said Scott. "How many do you think we can gather in?" "Not so many on one trip. Perhaps fifteen if we have good luck. A big herd leaves a big trail."