driven to
desperation, held council after council to determine what to do.
Sorties were discussed, ambushes considered, and a pitched battle was
planned. But, while ideas were plentiful, no one aspired to lead an
attack on Whispering Smith.

Moreover, Williams Cache, it was conceded, would in the end be worsted
if the company and the cowmen together seriously undertook with men
and unlimited money to clean it out. Whispering Smith's party had no
explanation to offer for the round-up, but when Rebstock made it known
that the fight was over sending out Du Sang, the rage of the rustlers
turned on Du Sang. Again, however, no man wanted to take up personally
with Du Sang the question of the reasonableness of Whispering Smith's
demand. Instead of doing so, they fell on Rebstock and demanded that
if he were boss he make good and send Du Sang out.

Of all this commotion the railroad men saw only the outward
indications. As the excitement grew on both sides there was perhaps a
little more of display in the way the cattle were run in, especially
when some long-lost bunch was brought to light and welcomed with yells
from the centre. A steer was killed at noon, everybody fed, and the
line moved forward. The wind, which had slept in the sunshine of the
morning, rose in the afternoon, and the dust whirled in little clouds
where men or animals moved. From the centre two men had gone back with
the cattle gathered up to that time, and Bill Dancing, with Smith,
Stormy Gorman, and two of the cowboys, were heading a draw to cross to
the north side of the Cache, when three men rode out into the road
five hundred yards ahead, and halted.

Whispering Smith spoke: "There come our men; stop here. This ground in
front of us looks good to me; they may have chosen something over
there that suits them better. Feel your guns and we'll start forward
slowly; don't take your eyes off the bunch, whatever you do. Bill, you
go back and help the men with the cattle; there will be four of us
against three then."

"Not for mine!" said Bill Dancing bluntly. "You may need help from an
old fool yet. I'll see you through this and look after the cattle
afterward."

"Then, Stormy, one or two of you go back," urged Whispering Smith,
speaking to the cowboy foreman without turning his eyes. "There's no
need of five of us in this."

But Stormy swore violently. "You go back yourself," exclaimed Stormy,
when he could control his feelings. "We'll bring them fell