of this trial during the rest of his life.
However, he stuck to his guns.
"Now what we want to know, young feller, is this: the names an' descriptions of them rustlers."
"I will give them to you gladly and will supply men to help run them down at my own expense if you will let the rest of my sheep come north on your range. Not only that, but I will not ask any damages for the animals you have already killed. Now, men," Larkin added, turning to the others and with a determined ring in his voice, "I want peace. This fighting is cutting our own throats and we are losing money by the hour.
"The range is free, as all of you know; there is a law against fencing it, and that means that no grangers can settle here and make it pay--the animals would eat all their unfenced farm truck. I have a ranch in Montana with about three thousand sheep on it. I tried to buy more there, but couldn't.
"Therefore, I had to come down south and 'walk' them north. Now I don't like to fight anybody, chiefly because it costs too much; but in a case like this, when I find a dog in the manger"--he looked directly at Bissell--"I make it a principle to kick that dog out of the manger and use it.
"I am just as much of an American as any of you, and Americans never had a habit of letting other people walk all over them. Now you men can do anything with me you want--I can't prevent you. But I can warn you that if I am judged in any way it will be the worst job the cowmen of Wyoming ever did.
"Understand, this isn't a threat, it's just a statement. Because I refuse to turn in and help that man, who has done his best to ruin me, he wants me to suffer the same penalty as a criminal. Now I leave it to you. Has he much of a case?"
Bud, who had risen in the fervor of his speech, sat down and looked at his hearers. Never in his life had he pleaded for anything, but in this moment necessity had made him eloquent. He had hardly taken his seat when Mike Stelton strolled over and sat down on the grass.
For a few minutes there was silence as the men, slow of thought, revolved what Larkin had said. Bissell, ill-concealing his impatience, awaited their comments anxiously. At last Billy Speaker remarked:
"I can't see your bellyache at all, Bissell. It seems to me you've acted pretty ornery."
"I have, eh?" roared Beef, stung by this cool opinion. "Would yuh let sheep go up yore range? Tell me that, would yuh?"
"I allow I might manage," was the contemptuous retort. "They're close feeders on the march, an' don't spread out noways far."
Bissell choked with fury, but subsided when another man spoke.
"I figure we're missin' the point, fellers," he said. "This here association of our'n was made for the purpose of doin' just what Bissell has been tryin' to do--that is, keep the range clear for the cows. We don't care what it is that threatens, whether it's sheep, or wolves, or rustlers, or prairie fires. This association is supposed to pertect the cows.
"Now I 'low that Mr. Larkin has had his troubles right enough, but that's his fault. You warned him in time. I'm plumb regretful he's lost his sheep, but that don't let him out of tellin' us where them rustlers are. It's a pretty mean cuss that'll cost us thousands of dollars a year just for spite or because he can't drive a hard bargain.
"Up on my place I've lost a hundred calves already, but I'd be mighty glad to lose a hundred more if I could see the dirty dogs that stole 'em kickin' from a tree-limb. An' I'm in favor of a tree-limb for anybody who won't tell."
"Yore shore gettin' some long-winded, Luby," remarked a tall man who smoked a pipe, "an' likewise yore angry passions has run away with yore sense. Yuh can't string a man up because he won't talk; 'cause if yuh do we'll sick the deputy sheriff on yuh an' mebbe you'll go to jail."
The speaker rolled a droll, twinkling eye at Bissell and the whole gathering burst into a great guffaw at his expense. This was all the more effective since Bissell had decorated the outside of his vest with the nickel-plated star of his authority.
At this sally he nearly had apoplexy and bawled out for a drink, which somebody accommodatingly supplied from a flask, although such things were rarely carried.
When the merriment had subsided a fourth man volunteered the opinion that, although there was nothing that could force Bud to tell what he knew, still, such a defiance of their organization should not go unpunished. The fact that the cowmen were opposed to the entrance of sheep into the territory was enough excuse, he thought, to make an example of Bud Larkin and thus keep other ambitious sheepmen away from the range in this section.
One after another of the men gave their opinions and finally lined up in two camps, the first resolved on punishing Larkin in some manner, and the second in favor of letting him go with a warning that he must take the consequences if he ever attempted to walk any more sheep over the Bar T range or any other range of the association.
As has been said, the right of justice and fair-dealing was the very backbone of the cattle-raising industry, and owners depended almost entirely upon other men's recognition of it to insure them any profits in the fall.
For this reason six of the eleven men were in favor of letting Larkin go. The matter rested with the majority vote and was about to be put to the final ballot when Mike Stelton got on his feet and asked if he might put a few questions.
Bissell, only too eager for any delay or interruption that might change the sentiment of the majority, granted the request.
Stelton's dark face was illumined for a moment with a crafty smile, and then he said:
"Yuh know a man by the name of Smithy Caldwell, don't yuh?"
"Yes," said Bud, cautiously, not seeing quite where the question might lead.
"He was in that stampede with yuh, wasn't he?"
"Yes."
"He was one of the party sent out to string yuh up, wasn't he?"
This time there was a long hesitation as Bud tried vainly to catch the drift of the other's interrogation.
"Yes," he answered slowly at last.
"Well, then, he must have been one of the rustlers," cried Stelton in a triumphant voice, turning to the rest of the men, who were listening intently.
"All right, I admit it," remarked Larkin coolly. "I don't see where that is taking you."
"Just keep yore shirt on an' yuh will in a minute," retorted Stelton. "Now just one or two more questions.
"Do you remember the first night Caldwell came to the Bar T ranch?"
Larkin did not answer. A premonition that he was in the toils of this man concerning that dark thing in his past life smote him with a chill of terror. He remembered wondering that very night whether or not Stelton had been listening to his talk with Caldwell. Then the recollection suddenly came to him that, even though he had heard, the foreman could not expose the thing that was back of it all. Once more he regained his equilibrium.
"Yes, I remember that night," he said calmly.
"All right!" snapped Stelton, his words like pistol-shots. "Then yuh remember that Smithy Caldwell got five hundred dollars from yuh after a talk by the corral, don't you?"
"Yes," replied Larkin, in immense relief that Stelton had not mentioned the blackmail.
"Well, then, gents," cried the foreman with the air of a lawyer making a great point, "yuh have the admission from Larkin that he gave money secretly to one of the rustlers. If that ain't connivance and ackchul support I'm a longhorn heifer."
He sat down on the grass triumphantly.
It seemed to Bud Larkin as though some gigantic club had descended on the top of his head and numbed all his senses. Careful as he had been, this wily devil had led him into a labyrinthic maze of questions, the end of which was a concealed precipice. And, like one of his own sheep, he had leaped over it at the leader's call!
He looked at the faces of his judges. They were all dark now and perplexed. Even Billy Speaker seemed convinced. Bud