He wondered what had become of Mary Leeds. He knew that the good people would take care of her. He could still hear her voice calling, “Skeeter Bill” to him, as he rode away in the night, and for the first time since that night he wondered why she called to him.
He found himself comparing her to Mrs. Kirk. No, she was not as pretty as Mrs. Kirk, but they were alike in some ways. Finally he snuggled deeper in his blankets and threw away his cigaret. The words of old Judge Tareyton come back to him—
“Keep smilin’, son, and don’t forget that God put a spark in you—a spark that will flare up and build a big flame for you—if you’ll let it.”
Skeeter smiled seriously at the memory picture of his old drunken lawyer partner and eased himself to a comfortable sleeping position.
Crescent City was the county seat of Moon River County, and a typical cattle town. The branch line of the N. W. Railroad came in out of the desert, dropped down through a winding pass, traversed nearly the entire length of the valley and wound its way eastward through the Southern Pass.
Just now Crescent City was the seat of much agitation, due to the invasion of sheep. Bearded cattle owners and hard-faced cowboys thronged the town, arguing, prophesying, swearing at the law, which gave a sheep the same rights as a cow. The saloons were doing a big business, as were the gambling-halls, and fights were plentiful and easy to start.
Judge Grayson, following his decision in the matter, had remained religiously at home. He was a married man, small of physique, and abhorred violence. Several reckless cowboys had openly sworn to scalp the judge and tie the scalp on a bald-headed sheep.
Ben Freel, the sheriff, was another object of wrath with the cattlemen. None of them considered the duty of a sheriff in this case. Freel was a gunman, cold as ice, and heartless in matters concerning his sworn duty, and he remained unmoved under the vitriolic criticism hurled at his back.
With the cattlemen it was a case of ousting the sheep or quitting the cattle business. It was true that only a small part of the range was being sheeped out; but if the sheep once gained a foot-hold in the valley of Moon River it would only be a question of a short time until more sheep would come pouring in through Table Rock Pass.