mmed up when he had
explained the true inwardness of the situation to the Irishman. "Bare
justice, the justice that even an enemy has a right to expect, shoves us
into the breach. We've got to stop this raid on the Craigmiles cattle."

Fitzpatrick was shaking his head dubiously.

"Sure, now; _I'm_ with you, Mr. Ballard," he allowed, righting himself
with an effort that was a fine triumph over personal prejudice. "But
it's only fair to warn you that not a man in any of the ditch camps will
lift a finger in any fight to save the colonel's property. This shindy
with the cow-boys has gone on too long, and it has been too bitter."

"But this time they've got it to do," Ballard insisted warmly. "They are
your men, under your orders."

"Under my orders to throw dirt, maybe; but not to shoulder the guns and
do the tin-soldier act. There's plinty of men, as you say; Polacks and
Hungarians and Eyetalians and Irish--and the Irish are the only ones you
could count on in a hooraw, boys! I know every man of them, Mr. Ballard,
and, not to be mincin' the wor-rd, they'd see you--or me, either--in the
hot place before they'd point a gun at anybody who was giving the
Craigmiles outfit a little taste of its own medicine."

Fitzpatrick's positive assurance was discouraging, but Ballard would not
give up.

"How many men do you suppose Carson can muster for this cattle
round-up?" he asked.

"Oh, I don't know; eighteen or twenty at the outside, maybe."

"You've got two hundred and forty-odd here and at Riley's; in all that
number don't you suppose you could find a dozen or two who would stand
by us?"

"Honestly, then, I don't, Mr. Ballard. I'm not lukewarm, as ye might
think: I'll stand with you while I can squint an eye to sight th' gun.
But the minute you tell the b'ys what you're wantin' them to do, that
same minute they'll give you the high-ball signal and quit."

"Strike work, you mean?"

"Just that."

Ballard went into a brown study, and Fitzpatrick respected it. After a
time the silence was broken by the faint tapping of the tiny telegraph
instrument on the contractor's desk. Ballard's chair righted itself with
a crash.

"The wire," he exclaimed; "I had forgotten that you had brought it down
this far on the line. I wonder if I can get Bromley?"

"Sure ye can," said the contractor; and Ballard sat at the desk to try.

It was during the preliminary key-clickings that Blacklock came to the
door of the pay office. "There'