Hall looked at it in silence, taking in its placid beauty and the roofs of peaceful houses among the trees, and as he followed down the slope he sighed. "Gitting tired?" inquired Meshackatee, "well, it ain't far, now. See that long house, off to the west? That's the famous Rock House that the first settlers built to stand off the bloodthirsty A-paches; and now, by grab, it's got a bunch of Texas gunmen that could give 'em cards and spades. It's the Scarborough headquarters, and over to the east is the big log house of the Bassetts. It was built for Injuns too--with loop-holes and all--but it's too doggoned close to that hill. The Rock House stands out in the middle of the plain, where you can't shoot it up from cover; but sure as hell, if they's ever any trouble, the Bassetts are going to git ambushed. They're right on the bank of Turkey Crick, too--where you see all them cottonwood trees--and a bunch of men could slip up through that brush and ketch 'em in the door at dawn. The other house, over north, it's the old Jensen place--they're using it now for a store. "That's the first real house that was built in the Basin," he went on with garrulous pride, "and it's sure seen doings in its day. Right there is where Jens Jensen made his start in the cow business and give the Basin its name. Them first ones might have been mavericks, but the kind they're gitting now have been stole from as far as New Mexico. Old Jens was an honest old jasper, in a way--as honest as they let 'em git in these parts--but the bunch that come in later would rather steal a cow than have their breakfast in bed. They was so good with a running-iron they could write their names with it, and every one registered a brand that would burn spang over Jensen's. His iron was JJ and the Scarboroughs put pot-hooks on it that made it look like SS; the Bassetts jest altered the last J to JB connected and changed the first J to suit. Sharps Bassett worked it over into an S, like the Scarboroughs, and Winchester changed it to a W; and Bill, the black rascal, burned as pretty a WB connected as you ever see in your life. Oh, these boys git so good they take a pride in blotching brands and figuring out real elaborate bums--like that feller back in Texas that altered XIT into a five-pointed star and a cross. He was offered ten thousand dollars to show how he done it, and now they ain't a cotton-picker this side of Uvalde that can't burn it over in his sleep. But that was back in Texas where the competition is strong--out here they was still in the ABC class, where a man used his initials for the brand. Well, they pulled off of Jens until they got halfway ashamed of themselves, he was such a peaceable old duck; and then Judge Malcolm comes driving into the Basin with fifteen hundred head of cows. The judge had bought this stuff up in the San Juan country somewhere, or traded for it someway with them Mormons; and he come right in here,