The position of the Scarboroughs, behind the bank of the low creek-bed which meandered across the plain, was impregnable from every side; and even after dark Grimes was afraid to venture out, lest he walk into yet another ambush. They were playing his own game--the way he had often played it when rash cowboys had charged down on his camp--and after gathering a few strays he was compelled to retreat, taking his much-vaunted Mexicans with him. Out of three thousand sheep he did not have fifty left; and his fighting _caporal_ lay dead on the plain, shot down by a cowman's bullet. But Grimes had made his boast that he would "show" the Scarboroughs, and the next morning early he came riding down the creek bed at the head of more than twenty armed Mexicans. They were ferocious looking creatures, each armed with a rifle and a pair of forty-five six-shooters, and as they rode past the house they charged the Bassett dogs and put them to flight with their ropes. Then they galloped on, laughing, to join Grimes and the rest, who had dismounted and tied their mules in the brush. The Bassetts watched them through loop-holes, not without muttered curses for the bravos who had lashed their pet hounds; but when they saw the Mexicans start up a stream-bed to the west they paused and reserved their judgment. It was the mouth of that same wash which had sheltered the ambushed Scarboroughs when they had shot down the herder and his sheep, and if the Scarboroughs were still there--they waited in tense silence, but no battle sprang up on the plain. All was quiet and still, and at last Grimes himself walked out to the body of his _caporal_. The Mexicans followed after him, they carried the body back; and then for a long time not a head was seen above the cut-bank of the wash. At the Rock House, far away, Hall could see through his glasses other men looking on from the mound. The Scarboroughs were at home, their horses caught and saddled, waiting to see what the next move would be. The sun mounted higher and the Bassetts stepped forth, the better to watch the grim drama; and then, from the north, there came the faint _baaa_ of sheep--Grimes was throwing another herd into the Basin. They came on at a trot, urged along from behind by herders and racing dogs; and as the first band left the brush another followed behind it, and after that a third. In long, bleating columns they strung out across the plain, heading straight for the guarded creek; and while the Scarboroughs ran to mount the bands swung to right and left and were held close along its bank. All three of Grimes' herds were now safely pastured in the very heart of the Basin; and he and his men were between them and the Scarboroughs, securely hidden behind the cut-bank of the wash. He came out into the open and held up his gun, but nobody answered the challenge.