“We ain’t had a gun-fight on this ranch since I been foreman,” said Brent.  “And we got some right fast men, at that.  Seein’ you’re goin’ to work for me a spell, I’m goin’ to kind of give you a line on things.  You can pick your own string of horses—­anything that you can get your rope on that ain’t branded ‘J.E.’, which is pet stock and no good at workin’ cattle.  You met up with Ed Brevoort this evenin’.  Well, you can ride fence with Ed and he’ll show you the high spots and hollows—­and the line—­south.  If you run onto any strangers ridin’ too close to the line, find out what they want.  If you can’t find out, get word to me.  That goes for strangers.  But if you get to arguin’ with any of my boys—­talk all you like—­but don’t start a smoke—­for you won’t get away with it.  The Spider ain’t payin’ guns to shoot up his own outfit.  If you’re lookin’ for real trouble, all you got to do is to ride south acrost the line—­and you’ll find it.  And you’re gettin’ a straight hundred a month and your keep as long as you work for the Olla.”

“Which is some different from takin’ my hoss and fannin’ it easy for Texas,” said Pete, grinning.

“Some different,” said Brent.

CHAPTER XXVII

OVER THE LINE

Few cattle grazed across the Olla’s well-fenced acres—­and these cattle were of a poor strain, lean Mexican stock that would never run into weight as beef.  Pete had expected to see many cattle—­and much work to be done.  Instead, there were few cattle; and as for work—­he had been put to riding line with big Ed Brevoort.  For two weeks he had done nothing else.  Slowly it dawned upon Pete that The Spider’s ranch was little more than a thoroughfare for the quick handling of occasional small bands of cattle from one questionable owner to another.  He saw many brands, and few of them were alike, and among them none that were familiar.  Evidently the cattle were from the south line.  The saddle-stock was branded “J.E.” and “The Olla.”  These brands appeared on none of the cattle that Pete had seen.  About a month after his arrival, and while he was drifting slowly along the fence with Brevoort, Pete caught sight of a number of horsemen, far out beyond the ranch-line, riding slowly toward the north.  He spoke to Brevoort, who nodded.  “We’re like to be right busy soon.”

Brevoort and Pete rode to the ranch-house that evening to get supplies for their line shack.  The place was all but deserted.  The cook was there—­and the Mexican Jose who looked after the “fast ones” in the stables; but Brent, Harper, Sandy Bell, and the rest of the men were gone.  Pete thought of the horsemen that he had seen—­and of Brevoort’s remark, that they would “be right busy soon.”  Pete wondered how soon, and how busy.

The day after the departure of the men, Brevoort told Pete that they would take turn about riding the north line, in an eight-hour shift, and he cautioned Pete to be on the lookout for a messenger riding a bay horse—­“Not a cow-horse, but a thoroughbred.”