The trail to the store led across the level valley, tramped broad by the passing of many horse-herds; and as McIvor left the Rock House and rode out into the open, more than one watchful eye was upon him. Yet he jogged on at a fox-trot, never turning to look back at the gathering clan of the Scarboroughs; and as he neared the store a single horseman left the Bassetts and rode warily over to meet him. It was the first move in the great conflict which was sure to take place; when the Scarboroughs and Bassetts, after years of petty bickerings, would meet and fight it out. Time and again they had swooped down and challenged each other, only to withdraw with loud boasts and threats; but now that the sheep had invaded the Basin it was war, and war to the knife. For as cattle and sheep cannot live together, but one or the other is sure to take the range; so the Bassetts and the Scarboroughs could not live in Maverick Basin--and the first blow would start a bloody feud. All this McIvor sensed, for years of mountain warfare had made him quick to read the minds of lawless men; but their battles were not his and as he approached the shabby store he dismounted and left his rifle on his horse. The store was a log cabin, set off to one side from the foundations of a house which had been burned; and within its loop-holed walls there was everything for sale, from horseshoes to cornmeal and whiskey. The storekeeper came out smiling and wringing his hands--a cringing little man with mouse-colored hair and a nervous, insinuating smile--but as he wrapped up his few purchases McIvor did not fail to notice that his eyes never left the door. There was a thud of hoofs without, a long, tense silence, and then a shadow fell across the doorway. He came in sideways, a thickset, swarthy man with a sparse black beard and mustache, and as Hall looked up he met a pair of glittering eyes that searched him through and through. "Good morning," he said, but the man did not answer and McIvor went on with his buying. "Oh, er--Sharps," stammered the storekeeper, whose name was Johnson, "this is Mister--er----" "Hall," replied McIvor without looking up, but the storekeeper was not to be discouraged. With all his fawning ways he had a name as a busybody and now he was starting to live up to it. "Oh, yes--Hall," he cringed. "You're new in the Basin. Are you staying over at the Scarboroughs?"