“Indeed he did. He wore buckskin. He stepped quick and soft. He acted at home in the woods. He had eyes black as night and sharp as lightnin’. They shore saw about all there was to see.”
Jorth chewed at his mustache and lost himself in brooding thought.
“Dad, tell me, is there goin’ to be a war?” asked Ellen, presently.
What a red, strange, rolling flash blazed in his eyes! His body jerked.
“Shore. You might as well know.”
“Between sheepmen and cattlemen?”
“Yes.”
“With y’u, dad, at the haid of one faction and Gaston Isbel the other?”
“Daughter, you have it correct, so far as you go.”
“Oh! ... Dad, can’t this fight be avoided?”