“I’ve found the tracks!  Somebody climbed up and rolled the stones, started the cave-in.  Who?”

“Holderness’s men.  They did the same for Martin Cole’s waterhole at Rocky Point.  How old are the tracks?”

“Two days, perhaps.  We can’t follow them.  What can be done?”

“Some of Holderness’s men are Mormons, and others are square fellows.  They wouldn’t stand for such work as this, and somebody ought to ride in there and tell them.”

“And get shot up by the men paid to do the dirty work.  No.  I won’t hear of it.  This amounts to nothing; we seldom use this hole, only twice a year when driving the flock.  But it makes me fear for Silver Cup and Seeping Springs.”

“It makes me fear for the sheep, if this wind doesn’t change.”

“Ah!  I had forgotten the river scent.  It’s not strong to-night.  We might venture if it wasn’t for the strip of sand.  We’ll camp here and start the drive at dawn.”

The sun went down under a crimson veil; a dull glow spread, fan-shaped, upward; twilight faded to darkness with the going down of the wind.  August Naab paced to and fro before his tired and thirsty flock.

“I’d like to know,” said Hare to Dave, “why those men filled up this waterhole.”

“Holderness wants to cut us off from Silver Cup Spring, and this was a half-way waterhole.  Probably he didn’t know we had the sheep upland, but he wouldn’t have cared.  He’s set himself to get our cattle range and he’ll stop at nothing.  Prospects look black for us.  Father never gives up.  He doesn’t believe yet that we can lose our water.  He prays and hopes, and sees good and mercy in his worst enemies.”

“If Holderness works as far as Silver Cup, how will he go to work to steal another man’s range and water?”

“He’ll throw up a cabin, send in his men, drive in ten thousand steers.”

“Well, will his men try to keep you away from your own water, or your cattle?”

“Not openly.  They’ll pretend to welcome us, and drive our cattle away in our absence.  You see there are only five of us to ride the ranges, and we’d need five times five to watch all the stock.”

“Then you can’t stop this outrage?”

“There’s only one way,” said Dave, significantly tapping the black handle of his Colt.  “Holderness thinks he pulls the wool over our eyes by talking of the cattle company that employs him.  He’s the company himself, and he’s hand and glove with Dene.”

“And I suppose, if your father and you boys were to ride over to Holderness’s newest stand, and tell him to get off there would be a fight.”

“We’d never reach him now, that is, if we went together.  One of us alone might get to see him, especially in White Sage.  If we all rode over to his ranch we’d have to fight his men before we reached the corrals.  You yourself will find it pretty warm when you go out with us on the ranges, and if you make White Sage you’ll find it hot.  You’re called ’Dene’s spy’ there, and the rustlers are still looking for you.  I wouldn’t worry about it, though.”