So she listened, and drew them out with adroit questions when it
was necessary. She made them talk of life on the open range, of
rustlers and those who lived outside the law in the upper
Shoshone country, of the deadly war waging between the cattle and
sheep industries.
"Are there any sheep near the Lazy D ranch?" she asked, intensely
interested in Soapy's tale of how cattle and sheep could no more
be got to mix than oil and water.
For an instant nobody answered her question; then Soapy replied,
with what seemed elaborate carelessness:
"Ned Bannister runs a bunch of about twelve thousand not more'n
fifteen or twenty miles from your place."
"And you say they are spoiling the range?"
"They're ce'tainly spoiling it for cows."
"But can't something be done? If my cows were there first I don't
see what right he has to bring his sheep there," the girl
frowned.
The assembled company attended strictly to supper. The girl,
surprised at the stillness, looked round. "Well?"
"Now you're shouting, ma'am! That's what we say," enthused Texas,
spurring to the rescue.
"It doesn't much matter what you say. What do you do?" asked
Helen, impatiently. "Do you lie down and let Mr.
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