here any more. But I've seen the time right here in Dry Wood when they raided beddin'-grounds and burnt wagons and killed sheepmen and herders, right along. That's what'd happen to us now if we was to try to run our sheep on that fenced-up range."
"I wonder if it would?" Rawlins speculated, his thoughts with his eyes, it seemed, where they sought the low hilltops to the west, beyond which the forbidden country could not be espied.
"If I was a man, with all to make and little to risk, I'd go in there and homestead," Mrs. Duke declared. "Well, I may do it anyhow one of these days—I've never used my homestead right, Uncle Sam owes me a hundred and sixty acres of farmin' land, or a half-section of grazin', I think that's all called grazin' in there, but some of it's as good farmin' land as ever laid out of doors. I'd locate on the crick, four or five miles west of the fence, if I was goin' in. There's some mighty purty land in there, level and rich, only needin' water to grow any kind of grain but corn. Corn don't do no good up here; the seasons 're too short."
"Clemmons was telling me about that valley last night. He says it's easy to irrigate, plenty of water available. It looks to me as if a few determined homesteaders could go in there and hold their own against Galloway."
"I ain't hopeful of ever seein' it done," she sighed, shaking her head. "You'd better change your clothes before you mix that dip, it's a mussy job, and smelly stuff to splash on a person. If them's the worst you've got I guess I can lend you a pair of overhauls. Ain't that a purty buck? He's a registered Rambouillet. I
