and lived on wheels: but it has never suffered the loss of its
identity. Oroville is said to have given to its river the name of
Peace River--either wholly in irony or because in Oroville there was
for many years no peace save in the river. However, that day, too, is
past, and Peace County has its sheriff and a few people who are not
habitually "wanted."

Whispering Smith, well dusted with alkali, rode up to the Johnson
ranch, eight miles southwest of Oroville, in the afternoon of the day
after he left Medicine Bend. The ranch lies in a valley watered by
the Rainbow, and makes a pretty little oasis of green in a limitless
waste of sagebrush. Gene and Bob Johnson were cutting alfalfa when
Whispering Smith rode into the field, and, stopping the mowers, the
three men talked while the seven horses nibbled the clover.

"I may need a little help, Gene, to get him out of town," remarked
Smith, after he had told his story; "that is, if there are too many
Cache men there for me."

Bob Johnson was stripping a stalk of alfalfa in his fingers. "Them
fellows are pretty sore."

"That comes of half doing a job, Bob. I was in too much of a hurry
with the round-up. They haven't had dose enough yet," returned
Whispering Smith. "If you and Gene will join me sometime when I have a
week to spare, we will go in there, clean up the gang and burn the
hair off the roots of the chapparal--what? I've hinted to Rebstock he
could get ready for something like that."

"Tell us about that fight, Gordon."

"I will if you will give me something to eat and have this horse taken
care of. Then, Bob, I want you to ride into Oroville and reconnoitre.
This is mail day and I understand some of the boys are buying postage
stamps to put on my coffin."

They went to the house, where Whispering Smith talked as he ate. Bob
took a horse and rode away, and Gene, with his guest, went back to the
alfalfa, where Smith took Bob's place on the mower. When they saw Bob
riding up the valley, Whispering Smith, bringing in the machine,
mounted his horse.

"Your man is there all right," said Bob, as he approached. "He and
John Rebstock were in the Blackbird saloon. Seagrue isn't there, but
Barney Rebstock and a lot of others are. I talked a few minutes with
John and Murray. Sinclair didn't say much; only that the railroad gang
was trying to run him out of the country, and he wanted to meet a few
of them before he went. I just imagined he held up a little before me;