under his thumb," she said.

"But he won't have for long," he insisted. "He's topheavy and ripe for
a fall. Those signs are all that saves him from going to pieces like
an over-inflated balloon. He's the only man we'll have to fight."

"What convinces you of that?" she asked.

"See here," he urged, the emphasizing forefinger tapping again. "This
will always be range country. It will only support a certain number of
cows. If the Three Bar had a section in hay to winter-feed your stuff
you could run double what you do now on the same range. It's the same
with every other small concern. There's only a few spots suitable for
home-ranch sites and every one of those has a brand running out of it
now--excepting those sites down in Slade's range. If all those outfits
put in hay it wouldn't cut up the range any more than it is now--except
down Slade's way. Every outfit in the country could run twice as many
head as they do now--except Slade. He couldn't."

"Why?" she asked. "Why wouldn't that apply to him as well?"

"Because he's strung out over a hundred miles. The minute farming
starts there'll be squatters filing on every quarter where they can get
water to put it in crop. There's twenty places Slade would have to
cover by filings to hold his range where the others would only have to
file on one to control the amount of range they're using now."

She nodded as she caught this point.

"Folks have fallen into a set habit of mind," he explained. "You think
because every squatter is burned out that every outfit but the Three
Bar is against sticking a plow in the ground. The rest probably feel
the same way--know they haven't a hand in it but figure that you have.
As a matter of fact, it's Slade alone. That's how I got a line on
Morrow the first night I landed. I said something about putting in hay
and he came right to the front and made a red-hot anti-squatter talk.
I knew right off he was Slade's man."

"How could you be sure of that?" she asked. "I've heard men with every
outfit express the same views."

"Morrow hasn't a brand of his own," Harris said. "He wouldn't lose a
dollar if the whole range was under fence. He's drawing down money to
keep that feeling alive. You'll find one with every outfit in this
country. And the chances are you'll find every one of them overlooking
a few calves on his circle--same as Morrow did. There's a persistent
rumor to the effect that any man who burns out a squa