“Let them get on the prod all they want to,” said Don Lovell to Reed and the sheriff. “I’ve got ninety men here, and you fellows are welcome to half of them, even if I have to go out and stand a watch on night-herd myself. Reed, we can’t afford to have our business ruined by such a set of scoundrels, and we might as well fight it out here and now. Look at the situation I’m in. A hundred thousand dollars wouldn’t indemnify me in having my cattle refused as late as the middle of September at Fort Buford. And believing that I will be turned down, under my contract, so Sutton says, I must tender my beeves on the appointed day of delivery, which will absolve my bondsmen and me from all liability. A man can’t trifle with the government—the cattle must be there. Now in my case, Jim, what would you do?” “That’s a hard question, Don. You see we’re strangers up in this Northwest country. Now, if it was home in Texas, there would be only one thing to do. Of course I’m no longer handy with a shotgun, but you’ve got two good arms.” “Well, gentlemen,” said the sheriff, “you must excuse me for interrupting, but if my deputies are to take possession of that herd this afternoon, I must saddle up and go to the front. If Honest John and associates try to stand up any bluffs on my office, they’ll only run on the rope once. I’m much obliged to you, Mr. Lovell, for the assurance of any help I may need, for it’s quite likely that I may have to call upon you. If a ring of government speculators can come out here and refuse service, or dictate to my office, then old Keith County is certainly on the verge of decadence. Now, I’ll be all ready to start for the North Fork in fifteen minutes, and I’d admire to have you all go along.”