the
name correct," said he. "The brothers took this range some time ago, and
those cattle that you met up the creek are theirs. Before you round up
any cattle and drive them out, you had better look into the situation
thoroughly. You surely know and respect range customs."

"Well," said the stranger explosively,--they mustn't expect to hold the
whole country with a handful of cattle."

"They only took the range recently, and are acquiring cattle as fast as
possible," politely replied Forrest.

"They can't hold any more country than they can occupy," authoritatively
asserted the novice. "All we want is a range for a thousand cows, and
I've decided on that hackberry grove as headquarters."

"Your hearing seems defective," remarked Forrest in flute-like tones.
"Let me repeat: This is headquarters for Wells Brothers. Their range
runs from the trail crossing, six miles below, to the headwaters of
Beaver, including all its tributaries. Since you can't stay for dinner,
you'll have time to ride down to the crossing of the Texas and Montana
trail on this creek. There you'll find the posted notice, so that he who
runs may read, that Wells Brothers have already claimed this range. I'll
furnish you a pencil and scrap of paper, and you can make a copy of the
formal notice and show it to your partner. Then, if you feel strong
enough to outrage all range customs, move in and throw down your glove.
I've met an accident recently, leaving me a cripple, but I'll agree to
get in the saddle and pick up the gauntlet."

The novice led his horse aside as if to mount. "I fail to see the object
in claiming more range than one can occupy. It raises a legal question,"
said he, mounting.

"Custom is the law of the range," replied Forrest. "The increase of a
herd must be provided for, and a year or two's experience of beginners
like you usually throws cattle on the market. Abundance of range is a
good asset. Joel, get the gentleman a pencil and sheet of paper."

"Not at all necessary," remarked the amateur cowman, reining away. "I
suppose the range is for sale?" he called out, without halting.

"Yes, but folks who prefer to intrude are usually poor buyers," shouted
the crippled Texan.

Joel was alarmed and plied Forrest with a score of questions. The boy
had tasted the thrill of ownership of cattle and possession of a range,
and now the envy of others had threatened his interests.

"Don't be alarmed," soothingly said the wounded man. "Thi