Isbel's supporters offered the same advice。
〃No； we'll wait till we know for shore；〃 was the stubborn cattleman's
reply to all these promptings。
〃Know！ Wal； hell！ Didn't Jean find the black hoss up at Jorth's ranch？〃
demanded Blaisdell。 〃What more do we want？〃
〃Jean couldn't swear Jorth stole the black。〃
〃Wal； by thunder； I can swear to it！〃 growled Blaisdell。 〃An' we're
losin' cattle all the time。 Who's stealin' 'em？〃
〃We've always lost cattle ever since we started ranchin' heah。〃
〃Gas； I reckon yu want Jorth to start this fight in the open。〃
〃It'll start soon enough；〃 was Isbel's gloomy reply。
Jean had not failed altogether in his tracking of lost or stolen cattle。
Circumstances had been against him； and there was something baffling
about this rustling。 The summer storms set in early； and it had been
his luck to have heavy rains wash out fresh tracks that he might have
followed。 The range was large and cattle were everywhere。 Sometimes
a loss was not discovered for weeks。 Gaston Isbel's sons were now the
only men left to ride the range。 Two of his riders had quit because of
the threatened war； and Isbel had let another go。 So that Jean did not
often learn that cattle had been stolen until their tracks were old。
Added to that was the fact that this Grass Valley country was covered
with horse tracks and cattle tracks。 The rustlers； whoever they were；
had long been at the game； and now that there was reason for them to
show their cunning they did it。
Early in July the hot weather came。 Down on the red ridges of the
Tonto it was hot desert。 The nights were cool； the early mornings
were pleasant； but the day was something to endure。 When the white
cumulus clouds rolled up out of the southwest； growing larger and
thicker and darker； here and there coalescing into a black thundercloud；
Jean welcomed them。 He liked to see the gray streamers of rain hanging
down from a canopy of black； and the roar of rain on the trees as it
approached like a trampling army was always welcome。 The grassy flats；
the red ridges； the rocky slopes； the thickets of manzanita and scrub
oak and cactus were dusty； glaring； throat…parching places under the
hot summer sun。 Jean longed for the cool heights of the Rim； the shady
pines； the dark sweet verdure under the silver spruces； the tinkle and
murmur of the clear rills。 He often had another longing； too； which
he bitterly stifled。
Jean's ally； the keen…nosed shepherd clog； had disappeared one day；
and had never returned。 Among men at the ranch there was a difference
of opinion as to what had happened to Shepp。 The old rancher thought
he had been poisoned or shot； Bill and Guy Isbel believed he had been
stolen by sheep herders； who were always stealing dogs； and Jean
inclined to the conviction that Shepp had gone off with the timber
wolves。 The fact was that Shepp did not return； and Jean missed him。
One morning at dawn Jean heard the cattle bellowing and trampling out
in the valley； and upon hurrying to a vantage point he was amazed to
see upward of five hundred steers chasing a lone wolf。 Jean's father
had seen such a spectacle as this； but it was a new one for Jean。 The
wolf was a big gray and black fellow； rangy and powerful； and until he
got the steers all behind him he was rather hard put to it to keep out
of their way。 Probably he had dogged the herd； trying to sneak in
and pull down a yearling； and finally the steers had charged him。
Jean kept along the edge of the valley in the hope they would chase
him within range of a rifle。 But the wary wolf saw Jean and sheered
off； gradually drawing away from his pursuers。
Jean returned to the house for his breakfast； and then set off across
the valley。 His father owned one small flock of sheep that had not
yet been driven up on the Rim； where all the sheep in the country
were run during the hot； dry summer down on the Tonto。 Young Evarts
and a Mexican boy named Bernardino had charge of this flock。 The
regular Mexican herder； a man of experience； had given up his job；
and these boys were not equal to the task of risking the sheep up
in the enemies' stronghold。
This flock was known to be grazing in a side draw； well up from
Grass Valley； where the brush afforded some protection from the sun；
and there was good water and a little feed。 Before Jean reached his
destination he heard a shot。 It was not a rifle shot； which fact
caused Jean a little concern。 Evarts and Bernardino had rifles；
but； to his knowledge； no small arms。 Jean rode up on one of the
black…brushed conical hills that rose on the south side of Grass Valley；
and from there he took a sharp survey of the country。 At first he made
out only cattle； and bare meadowland； and the low encircling ridges and
hills。 But presently up toward the head of the valley he descried a
bunch of horsemen riding toward the village。 He could not tell their
number。 That dark moving mass seemed to Jean to be instinct with life；
mystery； menace。 Who were they？ It was too far for him to recognize
horses； let alone riders。 They were moving fast； too。
Jean watched them out of sight； then turned his horse downhill again；
and rode on his quest。 A number of horsemen like that was a very
unusual sight around Grass Valley at any time。 What then did it portend
now？ Jean experienced a little shock of uneasy dread that was a new
sensation for him。 Brooding over this he proceeded on his way； at
length to turn into the draw where the camp of the sheep…herders was
located。 Upon coming in sight of it he heard a hoarse shout。 Young
Evarts appeared running frantically out of the brush。 Jean urged his
horse into a run and soon covered the distance between them。 Evarts
appeared beside himself with terror。
〃Boy！ what's the matter？〃 queried Jean； as he dismounted； rifle in hand；
peering quickly from Evarts's white face to the camp； and all around。
〃Ber…nardino！ Ber…nardino！〃 gasped the boy； wringing his hands and
pointing。
Jean ran the few remaining rods to the sheep camp。 He saw the little
teepee； a burned…out fire； a half…finished mealand then the Mexican
lad lying prone on the ground； dead； with a bullet hole in his ghastly
face。 Near him lay an old six…shooter。
〃Whose gun is that？〃 demanded Jean； as he picked it up。
〃Ber…nardino's；〃 replied Evarts； huskily。 〃Hehe jest got itthe
other day。〃
〃Did he shoot himself accidentally？〃
〃Oh no！ No！ He didn't do itatall。〃
〃Who did； then？〃
〃The menthey rode upa gang…they did it；〃 panted Evarts。
〃Did you know who they were？〃
〃No。 I couldn't tell。 I saw them comin' an' I was skeered。 Bernardino
had gone fer water。 I run an' hid in the brush。 I wanted to yell； but
they come too close。 。 。 。 Then I heerd them talkin'。 Bernardino come
back。 They 'peared friendly…like。 Thet made me raise up； to look。
An' I couldn't see good。 I heerd one of them ask Bernardino to let him
see his gun。 An' Bernardino handed it over。 He looked at the gun an'
haw…hawed； an' flipped it up in the air； an' when it fell back in his
hand itit went off bang！ 。 。 。 An' Bernardino dropped。 。 。 。 I hid
down close。 I was skeered stiff。 I heerd them talk more； but not what
they said。 Then they rode away。 。 。 。 An' I hid there till I seen
y'u comin'。〃
〃Have you got a horse？〃 queried Jean； sharply。
〃No。 But I can ride one of Bernardino's burros。〃
〃Get one。 Hurry over to Blaisdell。 Tell him to send word to Blue and
Gordon and Fredericks to ride like the devil to my father's ranch。
Hurry now！〃
Young Evarts ran off without reply。 Jean stood looking down at the
limp and pathetic figure of the Mexican boy。 〃By Heaven！〃 he exclaimed；
grimly 〃the Jorth…Isbel war is on！ 。 。 。 Deliberate； cold…blooded murder！
I'll gamble Daggs did this job。 He's been given the leadership。 He's
started it。 。 。 。 Bernardino； greaser or not； you were a faithful lad；
and you won't go long unavenged。〃
Jean had no time to spare。 Tearing a tarpaulin out of the teepee he
covered the lad with it and then ran for； his horse。 Mounting； he
galloped down the draw； over the little red ridges； out into the valley；
where he put his horse to a run。
Action changed the sickening horror that sight of Bernardino had
engendered。 Jean even felt a strange； grim relief。 The long； dragging
days of waiting were over。 Jorth's gang had taken the initiative。
Blood had begun to flow。 And it would continue to flow now till the
last man of one faction stood over the dead body of the last man of
the other。 Would it be a Jorth or an Isbel？ 〃My instinct was right；〃
he muttered； aloud。 〃That bunch of horses gave me a queer feelin'。〃
Jean gazed all around the grassy； cattle…dotted valley he was crossing
so swiftly； and toward the village； but he did not see any sign of the
dark group of riders。 They had gone on to Greaves's store； there； no
doubt； to drink and to add more enemies of the Isbels to their gang。
Suddenly across Jean's mind flashed a thought of Ellen Jorth。 〃What
'll become of her？ 。 。 。 What 'll become of all the women？ My sister？
。 。 。 The little ones？〃
No one was in sight around the ranch。 Never had it appeared more