For a minute Hardy sat staring at him, bewildered. “Well,” he said, “I can’t figure it out––maybe you wouldn’t mind telling me how it happened.”
“Why hell, man,” burst out the sheepman, “it’s as plain as the nose on your face––I didn’t belong to the Association. All these big sheepmen that drive north and south belong to the Sheepmen’s Protective Association, and they stand in with each other, but we little fellows up in ’Pache County was nobody. It’s about ten years ago now that the Swope outfit first came in through our country; and, bein’ in the sheep 186 business ourselves, we was always friendly, and never made no trouble, and naturally supposed that they’d respect our range. And so they did, until I found one of Jim’s herders in on my ranch last Summer.
“Well, I thought there was some misunderstandin’, but when I told him and his compadres to move it was a bad case of ‘No savvy’ from the start; and while I was monkeyin’ around with them a couple of more bands sneaked in behind, and first thing I knew my whole lower range was skinned clean. Well, sir, I worked over one of them paisanos until he was a total wreck, and I took a shot at another hombre, too––the one that couldn’t savvy; but there was no use cavin’ round about it––I was jest naturally sheeped out.
“It looked like I was busted, but I wouldn’t admit it, and while I was studyin’ on the matter along comes Jim himself and offers me five thousand dollars for my sheep. They was worth ten if they was worth a cent, all fine and fat; but my winter feed was gone and of course I was up against it. I see somethin’ would have to be done, and dam’ quick, too; so I chased down to St. John and tried to git a higher bid. But these sheepmen stand in with each other on a proposition like that, and I couldn’t git nawthin’.
“‘All right,’ I says to Jim, ‘take ’em, and be dam’ed to you.’ 187
“‘The price has gone down,’ says Jim. ‘I’ll give you four thousand.’
“‘What!’ I says.
“‘Three thousand,’ says Jim.
“‘You’ll give me five thousand,’ says I, crowdin’ my gun against his short ribs, ‘or I’ll let the light in on you,’ and after that Jim and me understood each other perfectly. In fact, we got stuck on each other. Yes, sir, after I got over bein’ excited and could listen to reason, he put it to me straight––and he was right.
“‘What’s the use of bein’ the yaller dog?’ he says. ‘You can’t buck the whole Association. But we’ve got room for you,’ he says, ‘so git on and ride.’ And here I am, by Joe, leadin’ the procession.”