is only answer.

"Hey, you bold bad man from Bitter Creek, Texas!" he shouted, riding
closer to the beach. "Why don't you come down and fight me like a
man?" His big voice was trembling with excitement and he held his
pistol balanced in the air as if awaiting an attack, but Jefferson
Creede did not answer him.

"I'll fight you, man to man, you big blowhard!" thundered Swope, "and
there goes my pistol to prove it!" He rose in his stirrups as he spoke
and hurled it away from him, throwing his cartridge belt after it.
"_Now_," he yelled, "you've been sayin' what you'd do; come out of
your hole, Jeff Creede, I want ye!"

"Well, you won't git me, then," answered Creede, his voice coming cold
and impassive from over the rim. "I'll fight you some other time."

"Ahrr!" taunted Swope, "hear the coward talk! Here I stand, unarmed,
and he's afraid to come out! But if there's a man amongst you, send
him down, and if he licks me I'll go around."

"You'll go around anyhow, you Mormon-faced wool-puller!" replied the
cowman promptly, "and we're here to see to it, so you might as well
chase yourself."

"No, I like this side," said the sheepman, pretending to admire the
scenery. "I'll jest stay here a while, and then I'll cross in spite of
ye. If I can't cross here," he continued, "I'll wait for the river to
fall and cross down below--and then I'll sheep you to the rocks, you
low-lived, skulkin' murderers! It's a wonder some of you don't shoot
_me_ the way you did Juan Alvarez, down there." He waved his hand
toward the point where the wooden cross rose against the sky, but no
one answered the taunt.

"_Murderers_, I said!" he shouted, rising up in his saddle. "I call
you murderers before God A'mighty and there ain't a man denies it! Oh,
my Mexicans can see that cross--they're lookin' at it now--and when
the river goes down they'll come in on you, if it's only to break even
for Juan."

He settled back in his saddle and gazed doubtfully at the bluff, and
then at the opposite shore. Nature had placed him at a disadvantage,
for the river was wide and deep and his sheep were easy to turn, yet
there was still a chance.

"Say," he began, moderating his voice to a more conciliatory key,
"I'll tell you what I'll do. There's no use shooting each other over
this. Send down your best man--if he licks me I go around; if I lick
him I come across. Is it a go?"

There was a short silence and then an argument broke out along the
bluff, a ra