To the Last Man

nance of the clear night sky, hung over the dim, dark valley ramparts.

hen hauling on his boots and slipping into his coat Jean took his rifle and stole out into the open. Shepp appeared to be well trained, for it was evident that he had a strong natural tendency to run off and hunt for whatever had roused him. Jean tho

dge of the cedars. It struck him suddenly how well fitted he was for work of this sort. All the work he had ever done, except for his few years in school, had been in the open. All the leisure he had ever been able to obtain had been given to his ruling passion for hunting and fishin

to bolt out into the void. When Jean had traveled half a mile from the house he heard a scattered trampling of cattle on the run, and farther out a low strangled bawl of a calf. "Ahuh!"

g would strike a trail. But Shepp neither gave tongue nor came back. Dawn began to break, and in the growing light Jean searched around until at last he stumbled over a dead calf, lying in a little bare wash where water ran in wet seasons. Big wolf tracks showed in the soft earth. "Lof

d the slow trotting tracks. "Well, you old gray lofers, we're goin' to clash." Jean knew from many a futile hunt that wolves were the wariest and most intelligent of wild animals in the quest. From the top of a low foothill he watched the sun rise; and then no longer wondered

aying their discordant messages to one another; the colts were romping in the fields; stallions were whistling; cows were bawling. A cloud of blue smoke hung low over the ranch house, slowly wafting away on the wind. Far out in the valley a dark group of horsemen were riding toward the village. Jean glanced thoughtfully at them and reflected that he seemed destined to harbor suspicion of all men new and strange to him. Above the distant village stood the darkly green foothills leading up to

ently there had been three constructive periods in the history of that long, substantial, picturesque log house. But few nails and little sawed lumber

porch. "Shore we-all heard you shoot; an' the crac

quired pleasantly if Jean ever slept of nights. Guy Isbel l

awled, slowly. "Did you

rd them pullin' down a calf. An' I found tracks of two whoppin' big wolves. I found the

. "What with lions an' bears an' lofers-an' two-footed lofers of an

d Jean, in astonishment. To him th

," answered

where there were keen able-bodied men about. "But that's awful, dad. How

spot. "Where was me an' Guy, huh? Wal, my Oregon brother, we was heah, all year, sleepin' more or les

tumble comin' to you out he

al with. Lions thick as bees, an' shore bad when the snow's on. Bears will kill a cow now an' then. An' whenever an' old silvertip comes mozyin' across from the Mazatzals he kills

a pretty name!" repli

d the trail of a lot of other Texans who needed a healthier climate. Some two hundred Texans around heah, Jean, an

kitchen interrupted the

e to bre

n out for testing. The three rifles were forty-four calibre Winchesters, the kind of gun Jean had found most effective. He tried them out first, and the shots he made were satisfactory to him and amazing to the others. Bill had used an old Henry rifle. Guy did not favor any particular rifle

n began to hope that his father's letter was an exaggeration, and particularly that the fatalistic speech of last night, "they are goin' to kill me," was just a moody inclination to see the worst side. Still, even as Jean tried to persuade himself of this more hopeful view, he recalled many references to the peculiar reputation of Texans for gun-throwing, for feuds, for never-ending hatreds. In Oregon the Isbels had lived among industrious and peaceful pioneers from all over the States; to be sure, the life had been rough and primitive, and there had been fights on occasions, though no Isbel had ever k

er. "Meet some of my neighbors, Jim Blaisdell, in particular. Ta

red Jean, quickly. "A black wi

Bill 'specially has degenerated into a fancier of pitchin' hosses. Ann c

e swung a leg over him. Whiteface appeared spirited, yet gentle. He had been trained instead of being brok

them it was a pleasure to see stallions throw heads and ears up and whistle or s

man with eyes reddened and narrowed by much riding in wind and sun and dust. His name was Evans and he was father of the lad whom Jean had met near the village. Everts was busily skinning the calf that had been killed by the wolves. "See heah, y'u Jean Isbel," said E

asture that made it such a wonderful range. Several ranches lay along the western slope of this section. Jean was informed that open parks and swales, and

orce that betokened the nature of his heart. He was not as old as Jean's father. He had a rolling voice, with the same drawling intonation characteristic of all Texans,

d evidently the adjustment of impressions gotten from hearsay, yet bespoke the attention of one us

avor your mother. But you're an Isbel. Back in Texas there are men who never wear a glove on their right hands, a

Thus he planted in Jean's sensitive mind a significan

of the Tonto accordin' to the first settlers they meet," declared Blaisdell. "An' shore it's my belief these first impressions never change, just so strong they are! Wal, I've heard my father say there were men in his wagon train that got run out of Texas, but he swore he wasn't one of them. So I reckon that sort of talk held good for twenty ye

asin in winter time. A sheepman could throw a few thousand sheep round a cattleman's ranch and ruin him. The range was free. It was as fair for sheepmen to graze their herds anywhere as it was for cattlemen. This of course did not apply to the few acres of cultivated ground that a rancher could call his own; but very few cattle could have been raised on such limited area. Blaisdell said that the sheepmen were unfair because they could have done just as well, though perhaps at more l

first an' some of the last have struck the Tonto. The sheepmen have now got distributin'

likely to come of th

ad," replie

kon I'd be obliged

cattlemen will never allow the range

" went on Jean. "Never r

k to his name. An' presently he builds his stone house an' freights supplies in from Phoenix. Appears to buy an' sell a good deal of stock. For a while it looked like he was steerin' a middle course between cattlemen

st an' square sheepmen in

the new fellows that dropped in on us the last fe

in slow hesitation, as if compelled

eats or roar around like some of them. But he goes on raisin' an' buyin' more an' more sheep. An

is

aw Jorth but once. That was in Greaves's barroom. Your dad an' Jorth met that day for the first time in this country. Wal, I've not kno

e that had already involved him. And the sudden pang of regret he

on the Rim I ran into a sheepman who

's a new one. Wha

adiness that spoke volumes for

only goes to prove my contention-any fellow run

n. "Our little talk wasn't exactly friendly. He said a lot ab

lied Blaisdell, seriously. "

arted su

t it's not taken as rumor. It's got

er the collar. Well, he said they were goin' to run sheep

nst a post of the porch. Down he thumped. His neck corded wi

" he ejaculated,

asy Texan manner. Blaisdell cursed under his breath, swung his arms violently, as if to throw a la

cards," he said, quietly. "I

the subject uppermost in his mind. Then at an opportune

' unhappy," he said, with evidence of agit

ere right. I've shirked my duty to you. I'm read

.. Let's set down heah an' have a long talk.

luded with Blaisdell's reception of the sheepman's threat. If Jean expected to see his father rise up like a lion

ht over water an' grass! ... Jean, my son, that is wrong. It 'll not be a war between sheepmen an' cattlemen. But a war of honest ranchers against rustlers maskin' as sheep-raisers! ... Mind you, I don't belittle the trouble between sheepmen an' cattlemen in Arizona. It's real an' it's vital an' it's serious. It 'll take law an' order to straighten out the grazin' ques

the rise of a tremendous emotional strain. Wonderingly he watched the keen lined face. More

ad a chance. I bragged before men I'd reason to believe would take my words deep. For instance, not long ago I missed some stock, an', happenin' into Greaves's place one Saturday night, I shore talked loud. His barroom was full of men an' some of them were in my black book. Greaves took my talk a little testy. He said. 'Wal, Gass, mebbe you're right aboot some of these cattle thieves livin' among us, but ain't they jest as liable to be some of your friends or relatives as Ted Meeker's or mine or any one around heah?' That was where Greaves an' me fell out. I yelled at him: 'No, by God, they're not! My record heah an' that of my people is open. The least I can say for you, Greaves, an' your crowd, is that your records fade away on dim trails.' Then he said, nasty-like, 'Wal, if you could work out all the dim trails in the Tonto you'd shore be surprised.' An' then I roared. Shore that was the chance I was lookin' for. I swore the trails he hint

his suspicion. What a terrible reputation and trust to have saddled upon him! Thrills and strange, heated sensations seemed to rush together inside Jean, fo

her. "What I'm goin' to tell you now is my secret. My other sons an' Ann have never heard it. Jim Blaisdell suspects there's somethin'

ise," s

. An' we both fell in love with the same girl. It was nip an' tuck for a while. Ellen Sutton belonged to one of the old families of the South. She was a beauty, an' much courted, an' I reckon it was hard for her to choose. But I won her an' we became engaged. Then the war broke out. I enlisted with my brother

efrained from further g

t to see Jorth an' Ellen. I confronted them. I had to know why she had gone back on me. Lee Jorth hadn't changed any with all his good fortune. He'd made Ellen believe in my dishonor. But, I reckon, lies or no lies, Ellen Sutton was faithless. In my absence he had won her away from

him a thief. I made him a rustler. I ruined him. We met once. But Jorth was one Texan not strong on the draw, at least against an Isbel. He left the country. He had friends an' relatives an' they started him at stock raisin' again. But he began to gamble an' he got in with a shady crowd. He went from bad to worse an' then he came back home. When I saw the change in proud, beautiful Ellen Sutton, an' how she still worshiped Jorth, it shore drove me near mad between pity an' h

iner. She was a wonderful woman an' gave me the only happiness I ever knew. You remember her, of course, an' those home days in Oregon. I reckon I made another great blunder when I moved to Arizona. But the cattle count

a few others have a hunch. But that's no matter. As a sheepman Jorth has a legitimate grievance with the cattlemen. But what could be settled by a square consideration for the good of all an' the future Jorth will never settle. He'll never settle because he is now no longer an honest man. He's in with Daggs. I cain't prove this, son, but I know it. I saw it in Jorth's face when I met him that day with Greaves. I saw more. I shore saw w

ot," replied

the wood at about the height of a man's head. Jean saw it was a bullet hole and that a few gray hairs stuck to its edges. The rancher stepped closer to the

o. I recollect movin' my haid just when I heard the crack

let go. The first shot had been fired and he was an Isbel. Indeed, his father had made him ten times an Isbel. Blood was thick. His father did not speak to dull ears. This strife of rising tumul

h." With solemn gesture he placed his broad hand over his heart. "An', Jean, strange whispers come to me at night. It

s. You must have yours,

o that. I'll lay the deal before them an' let them choose. I reckon it 'll not be a long-winded fight. It 'll

y brothers' wives-of-of other women! Dad, these damned Texas fe

or our women if we let these me

t thinkin' about myself. I don't care. Once started I'll-I'll

f with a wrench that strange inward hold broke. He let down. He went back. Something that was boyish and hopeful-and in its place slowly rose the dark t

ed dreamily down off the Rim-so soft, so different, with tremulous lips, sad, musing, with far-seeing stare of dark eyes,

itterly. "The sins of the father, you know. An' the

rise and conjecture Jean enc

he was a ghost of the girl I had loved an' lost. Sight of her was like a blade in my side. But the lo

His instant and burning resolve to be as his father had represented him should have opened his mind to slow cunning, to the craft of

th? What had made all the difference? Suddenly like a breath the fragrance of her hair came back to him. Then the sweet coolness of her

n' that kiss-they've gone hard me. I should never have stopped to

o a feud which could be blotted out only in blood. If he had understood himself he would have realized that the p

when I kissed her. An' her words, so easy an' cool-like. Hussy? That means she's bad-bad! Scornful of me-maybe

the privilege of her kisses? No! But his reply was hot with shame, with uncertainty. The thing that seemed wrong was outside of himself. A blunder was no crime. To be attracted by a pretty girl in the w

of her an' what she is-they don't gibe!" In the import of these words hid t

sweet and more impelling for the deliberate memory. Flash of brown skin, smooth and clear; level gaze of dark, wide eyes, steady, bold, unseeing; red curved lips, sad and sweet; her strong, clean,

an, with bitter finality. "I might have fallen in

of her face nor did it wholly silence the deep and stubborn voice of hi

ver meet Ellen

ot lately,"

y. "I asked her to show me the way to the Rim. An' she walked with me a mile or so. I can't sa

d went around with her. That snub cut her to the heart. She was lonely. She had no friends. She talked about herself-how she hated the people, but loved Arizona. She had nothin' fit to wear. I didn't need to be told that she'd been used to better things. Just when it looked as if we were goin' to be friends she told me who she was and asked me my name. I told her. Jean, I couldn't have hurt her more if I'd slapped her face. She turned white. She gasped. And then she ran off. The l

he's a bad girl?" de

laimed Ann, in surpr

he was a da

d hates t

think of Ellen Jorth. Would you b

es

on't believ

e. Maybe she's wild. But she's honest, Jean. You can trust a woman to tell. When she rode past me that day her face was white and proud. She was a Jorth and I was an Isbe

. "Please keep this-this meetin' of min

, of cours

Yet the ache remained. More than that, he found himself plunged deeper into conjecture, doubt. Had not the Ellen Jorth incident ended? He denied his father's indictment of her and accepted the faith of his sister. "Reckon that's aboot all, as dad says," he soliloquized. Yet was