The men put away their weapons and waited in silence. The horsemen swept up at the tireless trot of the plains until they recognized the tall, gaunt figure of the chief herdsman. Then, with a yell, they galloped into camp, drew rein abruptly, and dismounted. Sims recognized the leader as Jimmie Welsh, the foreman of Larkin's Montana sheep ranch, and a happy, contented grin spread over his face. "Glory be, boys!" he yelled, going forward to meet the horsemen. "Rustle around there, cookee," he called back over his shoulder, "yuh got company fer supper!" The riders after their long journey were only too glad to see a permanent camp, and dismounted with grunts of pleasure and relief. They had come a distance of nearly two hundred and fifty miles in four days, and their horses were no longer disposed to pitch when their riders got upon them in the morning. The party was composed of all the available men from Larkin's ranch and others from the neighboring places. In these men the hatred of cowmen and their ways was even more intense than _vice versa_, this being a result, no doubt, of the manifold insults they had suffered, and the fact that, as a rule, cowboys far outnumber sheep-herders and run them off the country at will. The call to arms taken north by Miguel had met with instant and enthusiastic response, and these men had come south to wipe out in one grand melee their past disgraces. During supper Sims told of Larkin's offer of five dollars a day, and the riders nodded approvingly; it was the customary hire of fighting men in the range wars. "But how did you get down over the Bar T range?" asked the chief herder. "We done that at night," replied Jimmie Welsh, who was a little man with a ruddy face, bright eyes and a crisp manner of speech. "Tell me what's that ungodly mess up in Little River; it was night an' we couldn't see?" "Two thousand of Larkin's sheep," replied Sims, laconically, and an angry murmur ran through the men. "Old Bissell, of the Bar T, stampeded 'em when we were just a-goin' to get 'em through safe. Shot up one herder, lammed cookee over the head an' raised ructions generally. Yes, boys, I'm plumb shore we have one or two little matters to ask them Bar T punchers about." "But what's your orders, Simmy?" asked Welsh. "I'm in charge o' the hull outfit till the boss shows up an' can do whatever I want. I'm gettin' real concerned about him though, not hearin' a word for a week. I 'low if he don't turn up to-morrow I'll have to send you boys lookin' fer him." But the morrow brought its own solution of the problem. In the middle of the morning a lone horseman was seen approaching over the hills, and the restless sheepmen, eager for any sport, spread out into a veritable ambuscade, taking position behind rocks and in depressions along the hills on either hand.