On Saturday Rob returned from haying. Because of the shortage of water for irrigating, Robinson's hundred acres had cut very much less than usual. Every one, Rob said, was complaining of the way in which the stockmen from outside had "hogged" the grazing.

"So far," Rob told Harry, "every one I've talked with is willing to sign for the herd law. It's too late to do us any good this season, but we'll have it ready by the time the beef barons start coming north next spring. Biane is the only man down this way I haven't talked to. When you go up there with these oranges, I wish you'd find out if he's going to be home this evening and I'll go up then."

Immediately after dinner Harry set out with the oranges. She walked, because Rob's saddle horse had a sore foot and he wanted to use Hike. So far Harry had not missed a day in going to see Isita. The fever had broken, leaving the girl weak and wasted, and now especially was the time when she needed the nourishing and dainty food that Harry took to her.

The exhausting languor that follows the spotted fever made it a painful effort for Isita to move. Yet at sight of Harry in the doorway with her basket on her arm, the girl tried to raise herself on her elbow.

"None of that, Miss," Harry warned her, pretending to look stern, "or I'll go straight back home, and you'll never know whether I had soup or a sermon in this basket."

"It's all one to me," Isita answered, with a faint laugh. "I like whatever you bring; just so's you bring it."

Harry's daily visits had been literally a life-giving happiness to the poor child. Even Mrs. Biane's strange bitterness had softened before Harry's irrepressibly sunny nature. To-day she came in from the kitchen to set a chair beside the bed.

"While you're here, Miss Holliday," she said, "if you don't mind taking charge, I'll go up the road a piece after the hogs. Both the men are away."

"That's all right. I'll be here for a good hour. I've brought a book; if Isita eats her orange nicely, without making a face, I'll read to her."

"Why you're so good to my girl, Miss Holliday, I can't see. You've no reason to be." Mrs. Biane spoke abruptly, as if the words had kept back more than they expressed.

"I think I've the best reason in the world!" Harry exclaimed. "Isita and I are what they call 'side pardners.' And 'side pardners' always stand by each other in trouble."

Mrs. Biane opened her lips to speak, then closed them and went into the kitchen, shutting the door.

Harry pulled her chair close to the bed, took up an orange and spread under Isita's chin the smooth white napkin she had brought. The other girl said not a word, but drew Harry's warm brown hand into her two thin ones and carried it to her lips.

"Silly child!" Harry said, drawing her hand away, but her throat tightened with emotion.

She began in a most businesslike manner to prepare the orange. As she sat there in the quiet, shaded room, something of the deep serenity of the summer day filled her. It was the realization that the other girl understood—was at last her friend.

When Isita had finished the orange, Harry took the chair over to the window, lifted one corner of the blanket that served as curtain and began to read. She had brought The Lady of the Lake, feeling that its simple language and its rhythmic flow would soothe Isita as much as the magic of the tale would delight her. As she read, she knew without really looking that Isita was watching her. By and by, at the end of a long description, Harry glanced over and saw that the sick girl was asleep.

Harry drew a deep breath of relaxation. Her shoulders ached a little from sitting so long. She stood up, thinking she would go outside and walk about; but the loose boards in the floor creaked so loudly that, fearing to wake Isita, she sat down again. It was so dark and still in the room that presently she found herself nodding. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, then sat up with a jerk. A man's voice directly outside the window was speaking.

"Don't you ranchers make any mistake about this. Once let a fellow like him get control here, and you'll be ruined before you know it."

It was Ludlum. She could not mistake that voice. Harry sat rigid, wondering how to get out of the place. Before she could think what to do, Ludlum went on: "Let Holliday put that herd law through, and you'll have all the sheep in southern Idaho cleaning up the feed round you."

"What's the reason they will?" It was Joe Biane who answered, ready as usual to suspect every one and combat all statements. "What's the herd law got to do with lettin' the sheep in? It's to keep critters out."

"Cow critters," Ludlum corrected. "Once you get a herd law in here it'll nullify the two-mile limit that keeps the sheep off now. Holliday didn't tell you that, did he? He's spread the notion that us stockmen are the ranchers' enemies, when the fact is, we're your best friends. You never see one that ain't ready to give you homesteaders a lift, sell you cattle on time. Holliday's sister is buying her a herd on time right now, though mebbe you wouldn't think it from the way she's threatened to shoot up mine. I guess it was them two stampeded the critters here a few nights ago. Nobody but a tenderfoot would 'a' done it. Soon's they've been in this country a month they think it's the proper thing to pull a gun on everything. Why, didn't she go to shootin' at me with a rifle the other day because I'd clumb over their fence to pick up a grouse I'd winged? No, I tell you, Holliday ain't the kind you want to advise you. They ain't neither of 'em the kind anybody wants round. Well, I'll be moving. Let me know any time you want any help."

"Wait, please!"

At the sharp call both men started guiltily. The front door stood open, and Harry was coming down the path straight toward them.

"I heard you, Mr. Ludlum," she said. "Every word. Some of them weren't true."

At the ugly insinuation the stockman's bland face stiffened. "You heard me, eh? Well, then, young lady, you heard what's good for you. A few hard facts."

"Facts!" Harry's eyes snapped scornfully, and she flung up her head. Joe Biane, who had been edging quietly out of notice, understood this sign and halted, grinning expectantly.

"I don't know what you call facts," Harry went on. "It certainly isn't true that you came inside our fence 'merely to pick up a grouse,' as you say. You and another man were shooting on my land, and even when you heard me warn you, you kept on shooting. I had to fetch the rifle to frighten you off."

As Ludlum pretended to laugh, she hurried on:

"And we didn't stampede your cattle. I wasn't at home when it happened, and my brother was waked up in the middle of the night by hearing our own stock bellowing and running wild. When he had rounded them up next day four of our best steers were gone; it would be hard to prove it, but I think they've been stolen."

"Stolen. That's bad, too." Ludlum was apparently at his ease once more, amused and tolerant. "Stealing branded cattle in this country is a kind of risky business. Ain't you putting it pretty strong?"

"Not so strong as I'd like to put it, when I've been told by a buckaroo right in these hills that if I dogged a certain stockman's scrubs off our range I was liable to have all my own cattle disappear; without one chance in a hundred of knowing who'd run them off, too."

"Well. You heard that, did you?" Ludlum spoke in a tone of soft surprise, but his eyes gleamed cruelly. "It's going to be pretty hard for you to make anything on your cattle this year, then, ain't it? Can't even make a payment on your mortgage, mebbe."

"You needn't worry about my not paying you, Mr. Ludlum. If we can't do anything else we can bring the stock inside the fence until yours and these other outsiders' cattle have been rounded up. I'll have enough to sell this fall to pay off something by December. There won't be any danger of losing them next year, when the herd law goes through.

"You tell Joe, here, that you're our best friend, yet you try to set him against us. You tell him the herd law will put an end to the two-mile limit, which isn't so. That's not the kind of friend we're used to, Mr. Ludlum. And if we're not the kind of people you want round here, if you don't like us, why do you come up here? We've got along all right without you."

The moment she said that, she knew that she had made a mistake. Ludlum's eyes narrowed. "Oh," he said slowly, "so you got along all right, did you? Ain't it kind of sudden that you've found that out? Seemed to me you were pretty well pleased to have the old man put up cattle for you on time."

"It was your suggestion that I should buy of you. You weren't doing it because you were a friend. You said it was good business."

"That's right, little lady," Ludlum laughed, "you've hit it. Business it was and business it's to stay. Eh? It'll take more'n losing a bunch of stock to make you knock under, won't it? Well, here's luck to you."

And with a malignant chuckle he kicked spurs into his horse and went up the road at a gallop. As Harry, with throbbing pulse and clenched hands, stared after him she became suddenly aware that Joe Biane was watching her with covert intentness.

"Whatever you do, Joe," she said abruptly, "don't go to outsiders to help you get a start. You see what you're likely to run against."

"Aw! What difference does that make?" Joe mumbled, walking away. "Beat 'em at their own game, I say."

Harry scarcely heard him. She did not know, really, what she had said herself. Her thoughts came rushing down like a river that leaps a precipice and turns to helpless spray. She had spoken as she did to Ludlum on impulse; she had said too much and angered him.

As she went into the house to get her things, Mrs. Biane softly opened the kitchen door. Harry nodded, put her finger on her lips to indicate that Isita still slept, and then quietly went out. The walk home quieted her, and by the time Rob had come in to supper she was able to relate the affair calmly.

Her brother laughed a little. "You shouldn't let that sort of talk disturb you. We know Ludlum is out for himself, same as we are, though our methods are a little different. But I don't believe he can break up the herd law. The other ranchers round here know him a lot better than we do, and his bluff about the sheep isn't going to scare them."

Just to make sure that Ludlum had not turned any of the farmers against the herd law, Rob took time to ride out and talk with them—especially with those who, too busy or too indifferent to go into the matter thoroughly, had not given it very enthusiastic support. It was a discouraging ride; though most of the ranchers were still with Rob, Ludlum had won over enough men to defeat the chance of sending the petition through.

"The farmers up here aren't strong enough yet, or maybe they haven't suffered enough from the outside stockmen to carry any concerted move like the herd law through," he said gloomily to Harry on his return. "They're working so hard to make a living that they don't take time to think how much more easily they could make it. As for us, if I can buy enough hay to take us through the winter, I'll be well enough satisfied."

"Well, I won't!" was Harry's vehement and unexpected reply. "The idea of our all standing weakly aside and letting Ludlum or any one like him come in here next spring with perhaps twice as many scrubs! It's too humiliating. We might as well get out of the cattle business at once. What's the use of buying hay, of getting in any deeper, if we're not sure of our grazing every year? Don't you see? We've got to get it, and we're going to talk to every rancher in these hills once more and make them see what they're up against. Aren't we?"

Rob, in his favorite attitude on the porch floor, with his legs stretched out, his hands behind his head, was silent for a long moment. Then he gave Harry a reflective, questioning look. "Do we dare?" he asked.

"Dare! What do you mean, Rob Holliday? Dare!"

"Exactly what I say," replied Rob. "We sailed into this cattle proposition pretty bumptiously at first, but it looks to me as if we'd got another think coming. We've locked horns with Ludlum already and a false move on our part may finish us. Still, it's your land that's mortgaged. Do you dare?"

Harry stiffened up defiantly. "This isn't a childish 'stunt,'" she answered with dignity. "I've reasoned this all out as coolly as you have. A dozen steers will be enough to pay the principal and interest due December first."

"Will they! Four hundred and twenty-two dollars! And the chances are that beef will go down as feed goes up. And you don't reckon on what the other fellow may do. Ludlum is after your land; never-failing water like ours is a gold mine to a stockman. If we put that herd law through, he'll be so mad he'll move heaven and earth to ruin us. He's got a lot of power in this country and he's hard as nails."

"Then I'll sell every animal in my herd, pay off everything I owe and be free of him. You'll have your cattle, and with them and the range cleared of Ludlum's stuff, we'll soon make up the loss and sail ahead; beat Ludlum to a fare-thee-well."

"So be it then," Rob acquiesced; "but if we're going to push the herd law we'll have to do it now, before harvesting begins. We'll start with Biane. We may find out from him what made the other fellows back out."

But the Portuguese was reticent. On Rob's arguing that the summer grazing was the backbone of the cattle business and that it belonged by rights to the foothill ranchers, Biane shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

"Yes. As you say, us fellows have not any show. We ar-re poor and the poor must always stand back; give the fat man the road. Eh?"

"Not if we'd hang together the way the big men do," Harry answered promptly.

Suddenly she felt a repulsion for that short, swarthy man with his smooth, ingratiating manner, his slow, narrow glance that moved so calculatingly over her and Rob.

"Before this," she went on, "we ranchers have struggled on alone, not worrying about our neighbors' troubles; but now we're up against it, and we must work together or go clean broke."

"Why, look here, Biane," Rob put in earnestly; "you've a bunch of stock yourself, and you've had to buy hay down on the South Side. What good is Ludlum's good will going to do you? Can't you see that your profit is in standing with us? Every acre of grazing we save is money in your pocket."

Biane, chewing a straw, smiled. "I have no ill-feeling for you, Meestore Rob. I like be freendly wit' my neighbors; but so I like keep freendly wit' Ludlum. The range is free. I have no right to drive heem off. Eh?"

"But he is driving us off!" Rob exclaimed. "He talks about keeping it free, and he's taking every spear of grass on it. Isn't he?"

"I get enough," Biane said gently, with a shrug and a smile. "What more I need? If it is hay that you want, I sell you some."

"You? Why, how's that? You'll need all you bought for your own stock, won't you?"

"I spare you some. How much you need?"

"Well, after we've sold our beef this fall, we'll have about seventy head to winter."

"I could let you have feefty ton."

"That's fine. At how much?"

"Oh, twenty-five dollare. Yes."

Rob laughed ironically. "Only twenty-five a ton? How can you let it go so cheap?"

"Hay is now feefteen and——"

"Sure. And may go to fifteen hundred, so I wouldn't think of robbing you. No doubt you can get fifty from some one you don't want to keep friendly with."

"You ar-re mistaken. I rather not to quarrel wit' nobody."

"The hill ranchers may not understand," Rob said as he turned his horse. "Trying to keep in with us and our enemy, too, doesn't look so friendly as you imagine."

As he and Harry, riding home, talked over the visit, Rob said, "There must be something more than sweet neutrality back of all that. How do we know that Ludlum isn't paying that fellow to stand out against the herd law?"

"He can't bribe every one," Harry answered, "and there are enough of us to carry it through, once we all get together."

The evidence that Rob was able to give of Ludlum's dishonesty, and of his outspoken animosity toward Harry and himself, was a strong argument with those farmers who had listened favorably to Ludlum's talk. Rob was able to convince them that unless they wished to be ruined they must protect themselves against such plunderers as Ludlum. The more progressive farmers added their arguments to Rob's with such effect that, when the petition for a herd law came up in the county court, very few among the hill ranchers' names were missing.

"There she is," Rob said, throwing on the table the Camas Prairie Courier, containing the announcement that their district was to go under the herd law. "I'd like to see old Ludlum's mug when he reads that. I bet he'll try to start something even now."

"Let him," Harry answered tranquilly. "This will see his finish up here."

"It may see our finish, too, round December first," Rob said to himself, "that is, if hay goes any higher and cattle any lower."