“Well, Swingley and Tom Hoog will soon be on my trail,” observed the Texan. “I’ll not stay here any longer than I can help, on Uncle Billy’s account. Also on your account,” he added, “as it is not going to do you any particular good to have it known that you helped one of the invaders to safety. People are going to grow more bitter than ever, now that Swingley and Hoog are dominating things in such high-handed fashion.” “High-handed is a mild term for what they are doing,” replied the girl, her eyes flashing. “They are trying to set up a despotism for the big-cattle interests. After they shot my stepfather and Nate Day, at our little ranch house on the Powderhorn, and had burned the cabin they found the settlers opposing them just the way the farmers opposed the redcoats at Lexington. Things were made so hot for Swingley and his men that they had to fortify themselves in a ranch house, several miles from their objective, the county seat at Wild Horse. They were besieged two days and would have been captured to the last man, if United States soldiers hadn’t intervened. The invaders were taken to Wild Horse under military escort, but it wasn’t ten hours before every one of them was out under bail.” “There must be bigger men than Swingley mixed up in it,” observed the Texan. “There are, of course--the biggest cattle interests in the West. But they haven’t shown their hand, and Swingley apparently does just as he pleases. He has headquarters at Wild Horse, with a big bodyguard of fighters, led by Tom Hoog, ready to do his bidding. The rest of the invaders have been scattered among the big-cattle ranches, presumably as cowboys, but really as fighters. It looks as if the trouble had only started.” The girl’s voice was lowered, but took no new intensity of expression as she continued. “Everybody thought there would be open war in Wild Horse, when my stepfather and Nate Day were buried,” she said. “But the ranchmen made such a showing then that even Swingley seemed to be over-awed for the moment. Wild Horse never was so full of armed men. But the ranchmen were determined that, if there was trouble, they would not be the aggressors. They crowded the little church, where the services were held, and scores of them stood outside. Everybody was heavily armed. When the funeral procession went through the streets, with all those grim, determined-looking men, riding so silent, with their rifles across their saddles, it was terrible!”