that
tries to tech him crosses over afore he does."

Some one laughed. Corliss touched Shoop's arm and whispered to him.
With a curse the foreman turned and the men clumped out to the yard.

"He's right," said Corliss. "We'll wait."

They stood around talking and commenting upon Sundown's defense of the
Mexican.

"'Course we could 'a' got him," said Shoop, "but it don't set right
with me to be stood up by a tenderfoot. Sundown's sure loco."

"I don't know, Bud. He's queer, all right, but this is his ranch.
He's got a right to order us out."

Shoop was about to retort when Sundown came to the doorway. "I guess
you can come in now," he said. "And you won't need no gun." The men
shuffled awkwardly, and finally led by Corliss they filed into the room
and one by one they stepped to the open door of the bedroom and gazed
within. Then they filed out silently.

"I'll send over some grub," said Corliss as they mounted. Sundown
nodded.

The band of riders moved slowly back toward the Concho. About halfway
on their homeward journey they met Loring in a buckboard. The old
sheep-man drove up and would have passed them without speaking had not
Corliss reined across the road and halted him.

"One of your herders--'Sandro--is over at the water-hole," said
Corliss. "If you're headed for Antelope, you might stop by and take
him along."

Loring glared at the Concho riders, seemed about to speak, but instead
clucked to his team. The riders reined out of his way and he swept
past, gazing straight ahead, grim, silent, and utterly without fear.
He understood the rancher's brief statement, and he already knew of the
killing of Sinker. 'Sandro's assistant, becoming frightened, had left
his wounded companion on the mesas, and had ridden to the Loring rancho
with the story of the fight and its ending.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE PEACEMAKER

"But I ain't no dove--more like a stork, I guess," reflected Sundown as
he stood in the doorway of his house. "And storks brings
responsibilities in baskets, instead of olive branches. No wonder ole
man Noah fired the dove right out ag'in--bringin' him olives what
wa'n't pickled, instead of a bunch of grapes or somethin' you can eat!
And that there dove never come back. I reckon he figured if he did,
ole man Noah'd shoot him. Anyhow, if I ain't no dove of peace, I'm
goin' to do the best I can. Everybody 'round here seems like they was
tryin' to ride right into trouble wishfu