You drag them to court twice a year--the farmer at seed time and harvest, the cowman from the spring and fall round-ups.

It hurts, it cripples them, they ride thirty miles to vote against you; it costs you all the extra mileage money to offset their votes.

As a final folly, you purpose deliberately to stir up the old factions.

What was it Napoleon said?
'It is worse than a crime: it is a blunder.' I'll tell you now, not a Barela nor an Ascarate shall stir a foot in such a quarrel.

If you want to bait Kit Foy, do it yourself--or set your city police on him." "I will." A faint tinge of color came to the clear olive of Anastacio's cheek as he rose.
"But don't promise my place to any of them, sheriff.