can't work a guy by talkin' and lovin', then they take to cryin'."

Just then Corliss stepped to the girl and put his hand on her shoulder.
Again she turned to him. He took her hands and held them while he
talked. Fadeaway could see her lips move, evidently in reply. He
could not hear what was being said, as his horse was restless, fretting
and stamping. The saddle creaked. Fadeaway jerked the horse up, and
in the momentary silence he caught the word "love."

"Makes me sick!" he said, spurring forward. "'Love,' eh? Well, mebby
my little idea of puttin' Billy Corliss in wrong didn't work, but I'll
hand Jack a jolt that'll make him think of somethin' else besides love,
one of these fine mornin's!" And the cowboy rode on, out of tune with
the peace and beauty of his surroundings, his whole being centered upon
making trouble for a man who he knew in his heart wished him no ill,
and in fact had all but forgotten him so far as considering him either
as an enemy or a friend.

Just as he was about to swing out to the open of the mesa near the edge
of the canon, he came upon a Mexican boy asleep beneath the low
branches of a spruce. Fadeaway glanced across the mesa and, as he had
expected, saw a band of sheep grazing in the sunshine. His trail ran
directly toward the sheep. Beyond lay the canon. He would not ride
around a herd of sheep that blocked his trail, not if he knew it! As
he drew nearer the sheep they bunched, forcing those ahead to move on.
Fadeaway glanced back at the sleeping boy, then set spur to his horse
and waved his sombrero. The sheep broke into a trot. He rode back and
forth behind them forcing them toward the canon. He beat upon his
rolled slicker with his quirt. The sound frenzied the sheep and they
leaped forward. Lambs, trailing behind, called dolefully to the
plunging ewes that trampled each other in their terror. Again the
cowboy glanced back. No one was in sight. He wondered, for an
instant, what had become of Fernando, for he knew it was Fernando's
herd. He shortened rein and spurred his pony, making him rear. The
sheep plunged ahead, those in front swerving as they came to the
canon's brink. The crowding mass behind forced them on. Fadeaway
reined up. A great gray wave rolled over the cliff and disappeared
into the soundless chasm. A thousand feet below lay the mangled
carcasses of some five hundred sheep and lambs. A scattered few of the
band had turned and were trotting