Rock ranger station, would up an’ decide to leave the country right sudden. In fact, the boys was talkin’ last night about issuin’ him a formal invitation.”

“What if he refused to go?”

“Well, ma’am, the boys have a right persuadin’ way about ’em, I bet he’d go. If he didn’t—well, he might stay, permanent.”

Horror was growing in Mariel’s eyes as she listened to old Simple’s explanation.

“You mean to say they’d—they’d kill him?”

“Well, now, ma’am, a wise man can take a hint. There wont be any need for a killin’. For instance, say, one of the boys is picked to deliver a cordial invite to this ranger to leave the country—or to quit his job an’ stay here like an honest citizen, for, y’understand, miss, no one’s got anything personal against this ranger. If he got kilt, it would be a matter of principle, so to speak, with no hard feelin’s toward him.

“Well, s’posin’ he gets uppity an’ balks. What then? Why, mebbe some one shoots up his place. Then, if he don’t take the hint, mebbe they start shootin’ in earnest. Nobody believes in unnecessary killin’, ma’am, ’cept some real gunmen an’ killers. But it all depends on the feller that delivers the invite, an’ how the ranger’d take it. Naow, if the messenger’d get lit up a mite, an’ mebbe think he was a woodtick an’ it was his night to tick, an’ if the ranger got nasty, why, anything might happen.”

Mariel shuddered and said: “I think it’s a cowardly thing to do.”

“Mebbe so, ma’am, mebbe so,” grinned the old cow-hand, shrugging. “I reckon you aint the only one thinks so, either. The boys drawed lots to pick who was to run the ranger off’m the range. The one they picked wasn’t there. When they told him about it, that was just what he said. He give ’em h⸺. I mean, ma’am, he said it didn’t look right to him. But I reckon he was just scared out, ma’am. Left in a huff, he did, sayin’ he was goin’ over to the cabin of Gus Bernat, the trapper, to look for rustlers. Said the Gov’ment had a right to collect grazin’-fees an’ to limit the range, an’ that it was all for the cowman’s good in the long run. Next thing, I bet he’ll be standin’ up for the nester an’ his damn bob wire—beggin’ your pardon, ma’am. Bobbed wire is goin’ to strangle the cow-man, if he don’t look aout.”

Mariel glanced at the tiny watch strapped to her wrist. Seemingly she was deeply interested in 

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