with me on this I'll undertake to
shoot the last sheep out through West Pass inside of a week. And the
only chance we take is of getting shot at or arrested for assault and
battery. The Territorial Prison end of this gun business never did
appeal me, anyway."

"No--nor me either! But what's the scheme?"

The big cowboy leaned forward eagerly, his eyes flashing as he half
guessed the plan.

"We ride out together," said Hardy, his voice far away, as if he saw
it in his mind's eye, "unarmed--and we notify every sheep-herder we
see to move. If Jasp Swope or any of his men kill us while we're
unarmed it'll be cold-blooded murder, and there'll be witnesses to
prove it. And if the sheep don't move, _we'll move 'em_! What kind of
a crime is that, anyway--to drive sheep off the public range? There
isn't an officer of the law within sixty miles, anyhow; and if anybody
pulls a gun on us we can slug him in self-defence."

"Sure," agreed Creede, "but suppose one of them big-headed Chihuahua
Mexicans should happen to shoot you?"

"Well then, I'd be dead," said Hardy soberly. "But wouldn't you rather
be dead than shut up in that hell-hole down at Yuma?"

"Yes!" cried Creede, holding out his hands as if taking an oath. "I
would, by God!"

"Well, come on then!" said Hardy, and they shook hands on it like
brothers.

When the _rodeo_ outfit was gathered together in the morning Jefferson
Creede deliberately unstrapped his cartridge belt and threw his pistol
back onto his bed. Then he winked at his partner as if, rightly
understood, the action was in the nature of a joke, and led the way to
Pocket Butte.

"You fellows rake the ridges to Bullpit Valley," he said, briefly
assigning every man to his post. "Rufe 'n me'll hold 'em up for you
about four o'clock, but don't rush the funeral--we're goin' to move a
few sheep first."

He smiled mysteriously as he spoke, staving off their pointed queries
with equivocal answers.

"See you later," he observed, turning his horse into a sheep trail,
and with that the outfit was forced to be content.

The offending sheep were found feeding along the eastern slope of a
long ridge that led down from the upper ground, and the herders
were camped on the summit. There were four men gathered about the fire
and as the cowboys approached three of them picked up their carbines
and sat off to one side, fingering the locks nervously. The
appearance of Jeff Creede spelled trouble to all sheepmen and
t