"I allow yuh better steer clear o' them sheep, Bissell," suggested one man drolly. "First thing yuh know this feller'll tell yuh he's bought the Bar T away from yuh without yore knowin' it. Better look up yore land grant to-night." By this time Bissell had become a caldron of seething rage. His hand actually itched to grab his gun and teach Larkin a lesson. But his position as chairman of the gathering prevented this, although he knew that plains gossip was being made with every word spoken. Among the cowmen about him were some whose ill success or smaller ranches had made them jealous, and, in his mind, he could see them retailing with much relish what a fool Larkin had made of him. He knew he would meet with reminders of this trial during the rest of his life. However, he stuck to his guns. "Now what we want to know, young feller, is this: the names an' descriptions of them rustlers." "I will give them to you gladly and will supply men to help run them down at my own expense if you will let the rest of my sheep come north on your range. Not only that, but I will not ask any damages for the animals you have already killed. Now, men," Larkin added, turning to the others and with a determined ring in his voice, "I want peace. This fighting is cutting our own throats and we are losing money by the hour. "The range is free, as all of you know; there is a law against fencing it, and that means that no grangers can settle here and make it pay--the animals would eat all their unfenced farm truck. I have a ranch in Montana with about three thousand sheep on it. I tried to buy more there, but couldn't. "Therefore, I had to come down south and 'walk' them north. Now I don't like to fight anybody, chiefly because it costs too much; but in a case like this, when I find a dog in the manger"--he looked directly at Bissell--"I make it a principle to kick that dog out of the manger and use it. "I am just as much of an American as any of you, and Americans never had a habit of letting other people walk all over them. Now you men can do anything with me you want--I can't prevent you. But I can warn you that if I am judged in any way it will be the worst job the cowmen of Wyoming ever did. "Understand, this isn't a threat, it's just a statement. Because I refuse to turn in and help that man, who has done his best to ruin me, he wants me to suffer the same penalty as a criminal. Now I leave it to you. Has he much of a case?" Bud, who had risen in the fervor of his speech, sat down and looked at his hearers. Never in his life had he pleaded for anything, but in this moment necessity had made him eloquent. He had hardly taken his seat when Mike Stelton strolled over and sat down on the grass. For a few minutes there was silence as the men, slow of thought, revolved what Larkin had said. Bissell, ill-concealing his impatience, awaited their comments anxiously. At last Billy Speaker remarked: