Dad answered hesitatingly and Beck scraped one foot on the floor.
"Well, there is. Guess we've all been asleep. He's there, with a girl, and they filed on that water yesterday. That shuts your outfit and mine out of the best range in the country if he fences, which he will! If they're goin' to dry farm our steers off the range we'd better look alive."
"I'll be damned," muttered Hepburn. "That was one of the next things I was goin' to have her do, file on that water."
He scratched his head and turned. Beck was waiting for him to face about.
"Now," he said slowly, "what are you going to do?"
His eyes flashed angrily and any who watched could see the challenge.
Silently Hepburn reached for his belt and gun, strapped it on, dug in his blankets for another revolver and shoved it into his shirt.
"First," he said, "I'm goin' after those horses. That ain't too late to be remedied. No, I'll go alone!" as Tom stepped toward his bunk where his gun hung.
Hepburn gave Beck stare for stare as though defying him now to impute his motives and strode out into a fine rain, drawing on his slicker.