Wal, a drift fence built on top an’ runnin’ from Flag down country will keep the cattle on top. They’ll drift along an’ water down on the other side. Then they’ll drift back.”

“Why were they so serious about it?” asked Molly, curiously. “Isn’t a drift fence a good thing?”

“Reckon it is, for Traft an’ Blodgett, an’ the big cattlemen up Flag way. But for us folks, who live off the Diamond, it ain’t so good.”

“Most of us couldn’t live much worse,” replied Molly, thoughtfully.

“You bet you could, lass. Haven’t you always had milk an’ beefsteak, an’ shoes to wear?”

“Most always, but not always. Just now I’m walkin’ in my bare toes,” said Molly, with a giggle. “If I hadn’t saved up money enough to buy stockings an’ shoes I’d never come.”

“Molly, you goin’ to have a new dress, too,” declared Mrs. See. “I didn’t tell you we are goin’ to a picnic. Goin’ to be a big time in Flag on Saturday, most like the Fourth.”

“Oh, heavenly!” exclaimed Molly, rapturously. “An’ to think I almost didn’t come! … Mrs. See, you’re awfully kind.”

Mr. See went on with something in his mind. “No, Molly, we’ve been fair to middlin’ prosperous down here in the valley. But this drift fence will make a difference.”

“Caleb, isn’t the land owned by the government? Couldn’t any man homestead it?”

“Shore. An’ there’s the rub. Traft has no right to fence this free range. But he’s a rich, powerful old duffer an’ bull-headed as one of his steers. Who’re we down here to go to law? An’ where’d we go? Fairfield, the county seat, is farther away than Flag. It takes time an’ money to travel.”

“Oh, dear!” sighed the good woman. “Then it’ll mean hard times.”

“Wal, Susan, we can stand hard times, an’ I reckon come out ahead. But this drift fence means trouble. It’s a slap in the face to every free ranger in this section. They’ll all take it Traft accuses them of stealin’ unbranded stock that drifts down into the draws on the West Fork.”

“What kind of trouble, Uncle Caleb?” queried Molly, soberly.

“Lass, do you remember the Pleasant Valley war over across the mountains in the Tonto? Let’s see, you must have been about six years old. Ten years ago.”

“Yes, I remember, mama wouldn’t let me play out of the yard. We lived at Lunden then. But if I hadn’t remembered I’d sure know what the war was. Papa talks about it yet.”

“Ahuh. Lass, some people say your dad was crippled for sympathy to one faction in that fight.”

“Pa denies it.