He looked up at Hardy, the laughter still in his cheeks, but for once there was no answering smile. The large gray eyes were far away and distant, fixed vacantly upon the dust cloud where the sheep gathered in the east. Then, as if dismissing some haunting vision from his mind, the little man shook himself and drew away.
"That's right," he said solemnly, "it is."
Between the mouth of Hell's Hip Pocket and the cow camp at Carrizo Creek there lie three high ridges and three broad valleys, all running north and south from the Peaks to Bronco Mesa--the heart of the upper range; and there in compact bands the invaders held their sheep. From the lower levels they strayed out gradually over the rocky mesa; above they clambered up toward the wooded peaks; but at night the sheepmen worked back to the three ridges and camped close together for defence. After many years of struggle they had at last obtained their legal rights--their sheep were up to the ears in grama, eating out the heart of the cow country--but Jeff Creede was just over the hill, and the Mexicans were afraid. For years now the huge form of "Grande" had loomed before them whenever they entered that forbidden range, and they had always given way before him. And now he had the little man Chico with him, the son of a soldier, so it was said, and a gentleman of _categoría_; he always carried a pistol and his eyes were stern and hard. What would not Chico and Grande do to them, now that they were like bees robbed of their long-hoarded honey, who have nothing left but their stings?
So the word passed around amongst the herders and camp rustlers, and Jim and Jasp rode from one camp to the other, cursing and exhorting and holding them to their work. The hour of victory had come, but their triumph was poisoned by a haunting fear for their sheep. One hundred thousand sheep--five hundred thousand dollars' worth--the accumulation of a lifetime--and all in the hands of these cowardly Mexicans, not half of whom would fight! For the day or two that they held together they were safe, but when they spread out--and spread they must, to reach the western pass--then the cowmen could rush them at night like lions that raid a corral, scattering one band after the other, and the coyotes would do the rest! That was the joint in the armor of the sheepmen, and it robbed them of their sleep.