“Not yet,” said Hare. “Dene certainly looked as if he saw a ghost when Silvermane jumped for him. Well, he's at Silver Cup now. They're all there. What's to be done about it? They're openly thieves. The new brand on all your stock proves that.”
“Such a trick we never heard of,” replied August Naab. “If we had we might have spared ourselves the labor of branding the stock.”
“But that new brand of Holderness's upon yours proves his guilt.”
“It's not now a question of proof. It's one of possession. Holderness has stolen my water and my stock.”
“They are worse than rustlers; firing on Mescal and me proves that.”
“Why didn't you unlimber the long rifle?” interposed Dave, curiously.
“I got it full of water and sand. That reminds me I must see about cleaning it. I never thought of shooting back. Silvermane was running too fast.”
“Jack, you can see I am in the worst fix of my life,” said August Naab. “My sons have persuaded me that I was pushed off my ranges too easily. I've come to believe Martin Cole; certainly his prophecy has come true. Dave brought news from White Sage, and it's almost unbelievable. Holderness has proclaimed himself or has actually got himself elected sheriff. He holds office over the Mormons from whom he steals. Scarcely a day goes by in the village without a killing. The Mormons north of Lund finally banded together, hanged some rustlers, and drove the others out. Many of them have come down into our country, and Holderness now has a strong force. But the Mormons will rise against him. I know it; I see it. I am waiting for it. We are God-fearing, life-loving men, slow to wrath. But—”
The deep rolling burr in his voice showed emotion too deep for words.
“They need a leader,” replied Hare, sharply.