op you some more news, in addition: several
Mexicans are going to file on homesteads or desert claims along the
base of the hills south of here, scattered along like and running part
way up the mountain sides. I don't know where your canal to Perro
Creek will go, but if its line follows the foot of the range, as may
be likely, it might happen to find those claims in the way."

"Any idea in your mind where those fellows may locate their filings?"

"No; I can't say definitely. Shouldn't be surprised if they began
stringing them along a couple of miles south of here till they reached
Perro Creek."

Bryant gazed at the flank of the mountain. The gentle ridge where his
ditch line left the hillside was but half a mile away. Beyond that the
Mexicans could file to their hearts' content, for they would be left
on one side by the canal. But in all this he perceived Menocal's
cunning hand.

"Much obliged to you, sheriff," said he. "I'll see if I can't find
some way to satisfy those chaps when the time comes."

His visitor rose and put foot in stirrup.

"If any of these Mexicans grow ugly, let me know," he remarked. "I'll
tell them where to head in. Drop in at my office at the courthouse
when you're in town; Winship's my name. I brought these notices over
myself in order to look at you, for they were saying you are a
trouble-maker, but that's what these natives frequently state when
they want to fix an alibi for themselves before they start something.
I'll see if I can learn anything of the fellow who was up yonder
shooting. These _hombres_ are altogether too free with firearms,
anyway. Better feed that lad there with you a few more meals a day;
looks as if he could use them."

Bryant laughed.

"Dave's a little lean, but he's all there. Looks don't count, do they,
partner?"

"I do the best I can," Dave responded, solemnly.

"Not at meal-time, I reckon," the sheriff said. "Feed up and get fat.
A kid like you has no business having so many joints and bones
sticking out."

"I been through a hard winter last winter, and this spring, too, till
Mr. Bryant picked me up."

"How's that?" the horseman inquired.

"My mother died at Kennard. I didn't get on very well after that; not
much there for a boy to work at. And I hadn't any folks."

"Hump. What's your last name?"

"Morris."

"Any relation to Jack Morris?"

"He was my father."

The sheriff nodded. "Knew him well; he died four years ago. And your
mother died las