about. That happens to be my business—and don't go making any mistake about that. But I'll explain it a little better. I've been told—by the men that own the herds with me—to keep out sheepmen at all cost. That one piece of range that Crowson rented has been worth ten thousand a year to us. Do you think we're goin' to let that slip out of our hands for a bunch of measly sheep?"
"But why didn't you have enough sense to rent that tract yourself?"
"Because we're trying to make a clean-up out of this deal, that's why. Who'd ever dream that old hag would ever find a renter—and as long as we were gettin' it free, what was the use? We've been here a long time—if this flock prospered there'd be more of 'em come in—and where'd be our monopoly of the range then? You know that our policy has always been to squeeze out the little fellow—cattle as well as sheep. We've got to set an example with this flock of Crowson's—and to have 'em all get killed—in a few days—or even part of 'em, is going to discourage any more sheepmen coming into a cattle country. You don't know cattlemen, José, or you wouldn't question. Just the same—the job's only half done. A shepherd dog, wounded or not, 'll stay to fight to the last inch of hair on his body, especially that big devil of Crowson's. And he sure can bluff out the coyotes."
José discarded his cigarette, and lit a fresh
