He shut his jaws down grimly and it was easy to see that he shared the cowman's prejudice against sheep.
"He ought to be kept out!" exclaimed Hall, after a silence, and Meshackatee nodded approvingly.
"That's the talk!" he praised, "I knowed you had it in you. Come on, and we'll turn the woollies back."
"No, I don't mean that," protested Hall, "what I mean is, a man has no business to stir up trouble by deliberately invading a new range."
"W'y sure!" agreed Meshackatee heartily, "I'm with you, as big as a wolf. We'll jest go up that way to-morrow and talk reason to Mr. Grimes, and maybe he'll decide not to come. No, I mean it, by grab—and say, down at the house, I'll tell 'em you're jest a new man. They're ranicky as the devil when they ketch some outsider—and of course you ain't a Texan—so I'll jest tell Miz Zoolah, that's Isham's wife, that you've come up to help with the sheep."
He spurred up his lagging mount and went galloping across the plain, but as they drew near the Rock House he reined in suddenly, yet with his pony dancing nervously to go.
"Your name was Hall, wasn't it?" he inquired with a flourish. "All right, I'll fix it up. And say—where you going, horse?—what's you say that other name was? You know, that feller you was looking for?"
"I didn't say," replied Hall and, meeting his calm eyes, Meshackatee broke into a grin.
"Oh, that's right!" he exclaimed. "My mistake—excuse me!" And he jumped his dancing pony into a lope.