were too many to adorn the ropes
and too few to pull them.

The ranchers of Lincoln County were starting in business, and the
temptation to increase one's herds by means of rope and running-iron--a
temptation which was always strong on the frontier--was augmented
among some by a wholesome regard for their own lives and property:
better to give shelter to outlaws and buy stolen cows for a dollar or
two a head, than to defend your own stock against an overwhelming force
of dead shots. There were others--and these included several of the
bigger cow-men--who held that this was their territory and, deeming all
outsiders interlopers, levied such toll of plunder on them as the old
feudal barons levied on travelers by the Rhine in medieval times.

That was the way they reasoned; and the rustlers had easy pickings,
stampeding range cattle across the bedding-grounds of the trail herds,
gathering unto themselves the strays, disposing of their loot right on
the spot. They were taking full advantage of the opportunity, and the
Man from Bitter Creek was getting his share of the spoils.

But all of this struck Gallagher as petty business now; he was waiting
impatiently for John Slaughter's herd. At Chisum's ranch, where he and
a number of his companions had enforced their presence as unbidden
guests since the passing of the spring, he proclaimed his plan openly
after the manner of his breed; and he even went so far as to exhibit a
forged power of attorney by virtue of which he intended selling the
beeves in the Northern market, after he had killed their owner and
driven off the Mexicans.

"I'll lay for him up Fort Sumner way," he told his fellow-wolves, nor
did he take the trouble to lower his voice because he saw several
cow-boys from neighboring outfits among his auditors. It was a
tradition among those who lived by the forty-five thus to brag and
then--make good. And it was a firmly established habit in Lincoln
County to mind your own business; so the project, while it became
generally known, created no excitement.

The Man from Bitter Creek went up the river to the neighborhood of
Fort Sumner when John Slaughter's herd drew near the Chisum ranch. He
made his camp and bided the arrival of the cattle; but that arrival
did not materialize. He was beginning to wonder what could have
delayed them, for the fords were good and this particular section was
one where no drover cared to linger. And while he was wondering a
rider came