his feud we will go away and begin
all over again, far off where no one ever heard of a Jorth.... If we're
not spared we'll at least have had our whack at these damned Isbels."

CHAPTER VII

During June Jean Isbel did not ride far away from Grass Valley.

Another attempt had been made upon Gaston Isbel's life. Another
cowardly shot had been fired from ambush, this time from a pine thicket
bordering the trail that led to Blaisdell's ranch. Blaisdell heard
this shot, so near his home was it fired. No trace of the hidden foe
could be found. The 'ground all around that vicinity bore a carpet of
pine needles which showed no trace of footprints. The supposition was
that this cowardly attempt had been perpetrated, or certainly
instigated, by the Jorths. But there was no proof. And Gaston Isbel
had other enemies in the Tonto Basin besides the sheep clan. The old
man raged like a lion about this sneaking attack on him. And his
friend Blaisdell urged an immediate gathering of their kin and friends.
"Let's quit ranchin' till this trouble's settled," he declared. "Let's
arm an' ride the trails an' meet these men half-way.... It won't help
our side any to wait till you're shot in the back." More than one of
Isbel's supporters offered the same advice.

"No; we'll wait till we know for shore," was the stubborn cattleman's
reply to all these promptings.

"Know! Wal, hell! Didn't Jean find the black hoss up at Jorth's
ranch?" demanded Blaisdell. "What more do we want?"

"Jean couldn't swear Jorth stole the black."

"Wal, by thunder, I can swear to it!" growled Blaisdell. "An' we're
losin' cattle all the time. Who's stealin' 'em?"

"We've always lost cattle ever since we started ranchin' heah."

"Gas, I reckon yu want Jorth to start this fight in the open."

"It'll start soon enough," was Isbel's gloomy reply.

Jean had not failed altogether in his tracking of lost or stolen
cattle. Circumstances had been against him, and there was something
baffling about this rustling. The summer storms set in early, and it
had been his luck to have heavy rains wash out fresh tracks that he
might have followed. The range was large and cattle were everywhere.
Sometimes a loss was not discovered for weeks. Gaston Isbel's sons
were now the only men left to ride the range. Two of his riders had
quit because of the threatened war, and Isbel had let another go. So
that Jean did not often learn that cattle had been stolen