onstantly his resources were being drained. Time and again he and his
new Texas foreman, Jed Parker, had followed the trail of a stampeded
bunch of twenty or thirty, followed them on down through the Soda
Springs Valley to the cut drift fences, there to abandon them. For, as
yet, an armed force would be needed to penetrate the borderland. Once
he and his men bad experienced the glory of a night pursuit. Then, at
the drift fences, he had fought one of his battles. But it was
impossible adequately to patrol all parts of a range bigger than some
Eastern States.

Buck Johnson did his best, but it was like stopping with sand the
innumerable little leaks of a dam. Did his riders watch toward the
Chiricahuas, then a score of beef steers disappeared from Grant's Pass
forty miles away. Pursuit here meant leaving cattle unguarded there.
It was useless, and the Senor soon perceived that sooner or later he
must strike in offence.

For this purpose he began slowly to strengthen the forces of his
riders. Men were coming in from Texas. They were good men, addicted
to the grass-rope, the double cinch, and the ox-bow stirrup. Senor
Johnson wanted men who could shoot, and he got them.

"Jed," said Senor Johnson to his foreman, "the next son of a gun that
rustles any of our cows is sure loading himself full of trouble. We'll
hit his trail and will stay with it, and we'll reach his
cattle-rustling conscience with a rope."

So it came about that a little army crossed the drift fences and
entered the border country. Two days later it came out, and mighty
pleased to be able to do so. The rope had not been used.

The reason for the defeat was quite simple. The thief had run his
cattle through the lava beds where the trail at once became difficult
to follow. This delayed the pursuing party; they ran out of water,
and, as there was among them not one man well enough acquainted with
the country to know where to find more, they had to return.

"No use, Buck," said Jed. "We'd any of us come in on a gun play, but
we can't buck the desert. We'll have to get someone who knows the
country."

"That's all right--but where?" queried Johnson.

"There's Pereza," suggested Parker. "It's the only town down near that
country."

"Might get someone there," agreed the Senor.

Next day he rode away in search of a guide. The third evening he was
back again, much discouraged.

"The country's no good," he explained. "The regular inhabi