of thunder. Bob dodged, and his horse whirled. When he had mastered both
his animal and himself he spurred back. California John had reined in
his mount. Not twenty feet ahead of him the bolt had struck. California
John glanced quizzically over his shoulder at the sky.

"Old Man," he remarked, "you'll have to lower your sights a little, if
you want to git me."

XIV

At Christmas Bob took a brief trip East, returning to California about
the middle of January. The remainder of the winter was spent in outside
business, and in preparatory arrangements for the next season's work.
The last of April he returned to the lower mountains.

He found Sycamore Flats in a fever of excitement over the cattle
question. After lighting his post-prandial pipe he sauntered down to
chat with Martin, the lank and leisurely keeper of the livery,
proprietor of the general store, and clearing house of both information
and gossip.

"It looks like this," Martin answered Bob's question. "You remember
Plant sent back old California John to make a report on the grazing.
John reported her over-stocked, of course; nobody could have done
different. Plant kind of promised to fix things up; and the word got
around pretty definite that the outside stock would be reduced."

"Wasn't it?"

"Not so you'd notice. When the permits was published for this summer,
they read good for the same old number."

"Then Wright's cattle will be in again this year."

"That's the worst of it; they _are_ in. Shelby brought up a thousand
head a week ago, and was going to push them right in over the snow. The
feed's _just_ starting on the low meadows in back, and it hasn't woke up
a mite in the higher meadows. You throw cattle in on that mushy, soft
ground and new feed, and they tromp down and destroy more'n they eat. No
mountain cattleman goes in till the feed's well started, never."

"But what does Shelby do it for, then?"

Martin spat accurately at a knothole.

"Oh, he don't care. Those big men don't give a damn what kind of shape
cattle is in, as long as they stay alive. Same with humans; only they
ain't so particular about the staying alive part."

"Couldn't anything be done to stop them?"

"Plant could keep them out, but he won't. Jim and George Pollock, and
Tom Carroll and some of the other boys put up such a kick, though, that
they saw a great light. They ain't going in for a couple of weeks more."

"That's all right, then," said Bob heartily.