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 men were shooting men, while Kansas cattlemen, as a general rule, were not. Many of the Kansans had been farmers in the eastern states before taking up range life. Moore was a fair example of the class. There would be more than one funeral, for a fact, and it was no pleasant thought for any life-loving Kansas cowman that one of such funerals might be his. A man could much better stand the loss of half his cattle through Texas fever than the loss of his own life through conjunction with a Texas bullet.

Dunham could see that he had set the ferment of doubt and caution working; that the resolution of some of them, at least, was shaken. But Moore was still confident in the array of numbers to bluff Dunham and the Texans back.

"You'll hit the hottest water you ever put your foot in, Dunham, if you try to bring that herd across this river," Moore warned. "I don't care whose funeral comes off tomorrow; you can't bring them cattle into Kansas."

"You'd better call it off, Dunham, as far as you're concerned," Garland advised. "Whatever you're gettin' out of it won't be enough to make it worth while to have everybody in this country down on you. There's not a chance to break through, but if you lead them fellers on to try it you'll be in just as bad with us as if you'd made it. I know you're sore, I don't blame you for bein' sore, but you're a fool if you think you can square accounts this way."

"I don't hold any animosity against you, Mr. Garland," Dunham said with grave courtesy. "But there