CHAPTER XXV
THE END OF THE SHEEP
Court had convened. It was the day set for the decision in the Spur Creek open range matter—a decision which would say whether or not sheep could be pastured on land that the owner of Diamond X had long claimed as his own.
In the open West—where there is much hard work and little play—unless a man makes the latter for himself—the opening of court, even for small matters, was an occasion for the "gathering of the clans." From far and near, those who could get away to attend the sitting of the judge, and sometimes the trial of cases, were always on hand. It was the same sort of an occasion as in the East is the circus, the cattle show or the county fair.
At court, as at the circus and fair, friends who had long been separated met again, and, not infrequently, relatives found those of whom they had long lost trace.
And so, as there was a gathering of lawyers, a judge or two, some witnesses and any number of mere hangers-on in the city where court had been convened, there were heard on all sides such greetings as:
"Well, ef thar ain't ole Bill! Put here there, Bill!"
"Horn-swoggle me ef 'tain't Nate! Well, gumsozzle me!"
Two hard and calloused hand would meet in a crack like that from a small gun and two bearded faces, seamed and wrinkled, would light up with pleasure.
Near them—all around them—similar scenes were being enacted, and, not infrequently, ancient enemies would thus come together, with none of the kindly greetings that I have indicated. Often as not there would be the drawing of guns and an exchange of shots, more or less dangerous under any circumstances, and particularly so where there was a throng as at the opening of court.