down at Boise. It is the best sheep range in the State, and father found out that the cattlemen weren't renting it. The old woman had tried to rent it to them, but they wouldn't take it. We found out why, later. They were using it without paying for it—and they thought that giving any money to this helpless old woman was just throwing it away. Incidentally it was all she had, and because there are no mills here, it is practically valueless except for range.
"Father thought that by renting it, the cattlemen would leave him alone. They had all the public domain; and in this way, there couldn't be any particle of doubt about his being in his rights, both lawfully and from the customs of the range. The rent for it—for a term of years—cost him what little money he had left.
"We've been at war ever since. We've got to hang on—it's ruin for father if he quits. If the cattlemen would take the lease off our hands—as is only fair—we might ship off the flock and get out without losing everything; but they won't do it. They'd sooner shoot and kill our herders. If you hadn't come along when you did last night—hundreds of sheep would be dead to-day from the coyotes and cougars. I'm two days early myself—the flock would be practically wiped out before the date I was expected to arrive. They have intimidated or bought up all the labor in the region so we can't get help—that partly is the reason why I'm doing this work.
