a tired smile.

Douglas, with a resentful glance at Scott, shifted his gun belt, shoved
his own hat to the back of his head, and sat down. Mrs. Falkner pitched
the dish water out the back door and went into the next room.

"Well, fellows," said Charleton cheerfully, as he tipped back his chair
and established his spurs beside Scott's, "there's a neat little job on
the horizon. You both know the big canyon beyond Lost Chief Peak, that
has the little creek that disappears under the range?"

The young men nodded, and Charleton continued.

"A Mormon named Elijah Nelson has settled there. I'm not certain of all
he intends to do but I know this much: He's to homestead that canyon up
there and hog the water rights on the creek. He's to be followed by nine
other Mormon families. Some of 'em are going to raise cattle in the
canyon. Some of 'em are going into the sheep business in the plains
country beyond the canyon, where we Lost Creek folks have been in the
habit of wintering our herd when the snow's too deep here. Some of us
older Lost Chief men realize that these folks are the beginning of a
march of Mormons up from Utah to run us Lost Chief folks out. And we're
going to harry them till they are sick of living. Mormons and sheep must
keep out of this country."

Douglas' eyes burned and his breath came quickly. Scott's hard young eyes
did not flicker.

"We're going to ride over the range to-morrow night and the next morning
gather up what we can of Nelson's herd that's grazing on Lost Chief.