"I don't understand your indifference, Senator Nearing!" Barrett hotly gave it back to him. "That man's a thief, I had a run-in with him down at Saunders—Grimmitt and all of them said he was a thief. They're running off our cattle—our cattle—I don't care a damn how you like the sound of it!"
"Take it easy, Eddie, boy," Nearing placated, coming down at once from his high horse. "Maybe Findlay put those fellows to work, he's got the right to hire and fire without consulting me, I can't inquire into the character of every scab-leg cowboy that rides the range—I told you half of them were thieves."
"We've got a right to stop them and find out whether they belong to this outfit or not," Barrett insisted, starting as if he intended to go into the matter on his own account. Nearing checked him with a sharp word.
"It's all right, they're working them over the hill," he said.
"Why are they leaving the cow and calf?"
"They'll follow along," Nearing replied.
"So will I!" Barrett declared, with sudden outbreak again.
"They might be thieves, but I don't think so, from the noise they make," Nearing said. "Go straight along the ridge and head them off—I'll cut in behind them. We'll hold them up and find out where they're going with that bunch."
Barrett rode on as directed, pulling the rifle from the holster as he galloped. He shaped a course to bear down on the two men, who were now driving the little
