"They're broke," explained Meshackatee, "the lawyers got their money, and they ain't had the nerve to steal more. And then, being Injuns, they don't worry. They're three danged snakey _hombres_, to tell you the truth, and I don't want no trouble with none of 'em. Sharps is slow, but he's sure; and Winchester is quick and sure; and Bill, he's a fighting fool. He's whiter than the rest of 'em and he's jest naturally bad, proud of it and don't care who knows it. That boy would fight a buzzsaw with his hands tied behind him, if you'd listen to what _he_ says. But ain't you heard the news--they've throwed in with Grimes, the big sheepman from up over the Rim. He's a holy, fighting terror that ain't afraid of nobody, or he wouldn't be up on that range. The Slash-knife outfit has got cows there by the thousand, but that don't make no difference with Grimes. Every time he meets a cowboy or a bunch of these here rustlers he drops down off his mule and commences to shoot and--well, anyhow, he's promised to come down. He's going to bring his sheep and a bunch of fighting Mexicans and sheep these bad Teehannos plumb out. Well, you wait; and if he comes he'd better come a-shooting, because we got no use for _sheep_!" He shut his jaws down grimly and it was easy to see that he shared the cowman's prejudice against sheep. "He ought to be kept out!" exclaimed Hall, after a silence, and Meshackatee nodded approvingly. "That's the talk!" he praised, "I knowed you had it in you. Come on, and we'll turn the woollies back." "No, I don't mean that," protested Hall, "what I mean is, a man has no business to stir up trouble by deliberately invading a new range." "W'y sure!" agreed Meshackatee heartily, "I'm with you, as big as a wolf. We'll jest go up that way to-morrow and talk reason to Mr. Grimes, and maybe he'll decide not to come. No, I mean it, by grab--and say, down at the house, I'll tell 'em you're jest a new man. They're ranicky as the devil when they ketch some outsider--and of course you ain't a Texan--so I'll jest tell Miz Zoolah, that's Isham's wife, that you've come up to help with the sheep." He spurred up his lagging mount and went galloping across the plain, but as they drew near the Rock House he reined in suddenly, yet with his pony dancing nervously to go. "Your name was Hall, wasn't it?" he inquired with a flourish. "All right, I'll fix it up. And say--where you going, horse?--what's you say that other name was? You know, that feller you was looking for?" "I didn't say," replied Hall and, meeting his calm eyes, Meshackatee broke into a grin. "Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed. "My mistake--excuse _me_!" And he jumped his dancing pony into a lope. CHAPTER V THE CASUIST