"No," responded Hall, "I am a stranger in these parts. But after what I have seen of feuds and family wars I should certainly hesitate to start one." "Oh, you're a stranger, eh? Well, I believe you, there--because any man that knows the Scarboroughs will tell you they'll never fight. You don't believe me, eh? Well, I'll see you to-morrow--be back with a big band of sheep--and if I don't pasture them sheep in the middle of that plain I'll buy you a ten-dollar hat." "Very well, sir," bowed Hall, "I see you are determined. But I don't need a hat that bad." CHAPTER IX AMBUSH The night was filled with the drumming of horses' feet and the rush and challenge of the hounds. They gathered by the gate and bayed and barked continuously, racing far out across the open plain; and when at dawn the Bassetts looked out, the Basin was stripped bare of stock. Not a cow or horse was left for Grimes to wreak his vengeance on if his sheep were shot up and scattered--the stage was cleared and set for the play, which promised to be a tragedy. The Bassetts peered out warily, using their glasses through the portholes as they scanned the neighboring hills for gunmen; then the old squaw ventured out, to bring in wood and water and cook their bread and coffee on the hearth. As the sun rose higher the oak door was thrown open, giving an unobstructed view of the plain; and at last the Bassetts stepped out into the open, for the hour for ambushing had passed. There are crimes that stalk by noonday, and others that fear the light; but the men who shoot from ambush creep up in the night-time and kill at the first peep of day. Or, failing of their victim, they skulk off through the brush, before they, too, are marked down for revenge. All this the Bassetts knew, as well as that strange crotchet which keeps murderers from shooting down women; and so they stayed close till the hour for "tapping" had passed, sending their woman out instead. She plodded about stoically, apparently busy with her duties, but every possible hiding place was carefully scrutinized before she consented to let her men-folks come out. They stood now in the sun, rolling a smoke and looking northward for the first of the four bands of sheep; and as the clamor of their bleating came faintly down the wind, old Susie, the Indian woman, came out. First she glanced at Bill and Winchester, who were talking and laughing together, and then at sullen-faced Sharps; and then she, too, looked away to the north where the sheep were beginning to move. "No good!" she exclaimed, stamping her foot and turning to Henry; and while the other looked on she harangued him in Indian, pointing repeatedly at her sons and the sheep. But Henry Bassett was not the man to listen to a woman when it was a question of peace or war, and after a few words he dismissed her impatiently and joined his grinning "cubs."