"It isn't that. It's because Rob wanted us to have them together. The sheep couldn't have come in then; and now, since Joyce has filed on that place, his sheep will eat out all the grass and ruin the grazing for our cattle. So you see it is all my fault."
"I wouldn't say that, now. I might say it was mine, because I hadn't any business to lose my horse; but I ain't saying it. Things happen, that's all. And it's as likely to turn and happen right for you as it did the other way. We ain't ready to call this job off yet. Looks now as if your brother wasn't a horse thief, after all; and as he ain't, it looks up to me to get him out of the jug."
"I wish, when you have got him out, that you would put that sheep herder in. Running the horses off! As if he hadn't already done enough in beating Rob the way he did! I'd like to show that old Joyce, too, that he can't have all the grass, even if his herder has filed on the homestead next to ours."
"I reckon there wouldn't be much trouble running in the herder. The law's got a plain case against him—assault and trespass; but it's Joyce that ought to get jugged first."
"Joyce!"
"Sure. He's got fifty more homesteads than he has any right to."
"Yes, that's what Dan Brannan told us," Harry said slowly. "But no one can prove anything against him, and you could make his herder have some regard for our rights."
"I'll do that, anyhow. I'll hunt him out as soon as I get back to the range. What sort of a looking fellow is he?"
"Big and heavy-looking, yet rather handsome, in a way. Looks like a spoilt, sulky child.
"Not a Mex?"