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watch those cows, and if anything happened t o them it would be my fault. They were driving them toward the creek when I raced Old Blue ahead and turne d them back.
    The big Mexican with the scar on his face swore at m e in Spanish and raced at me with a quirt. He raced up an d I pulled Old Blue over and he swung, lashing at me. H e struck me across the face, and I pulled the Shawk & McLanahan out of my pants.
    His eyes got very big, and me, I was shaking all over , but that gun was as big in my fist as his.
    He began to talk at me in Spanish and back off a little , and then the other Mexican rode over to see what wa s happening. When he saw the gun he stopped and looke d very serious, and then he turned away from me as if to rid e off, but when he turned he suddenly swung backhande d with his rope and the gun was torn from my hand an d sent flying. Then he came at me, and he hit me acros s the face with the rope, and then lashed me with it ove r the back, and the half-coiled rope struck like a club an d knocked me from my horse.
    Then he spat on me and laughed and they drove off th e cows, taking Old Blue along with them, and I lay ther e on the ground and could do nothing at all.
    When I could get up I was very stiff and there wa s blood on me, but I walked to where the Shawk & McLanahan lay and picked it up.
    It was ten miles back to town, but I walked it, and aske d around for Pollard. When I found him he was playin g cards. He waved at me and said, "Later, Rye. I'm bus y now."
    The place was crowded with men and some of the m stared at my bloody face and the dirt on me, and I wa s ashamed. They would laugh at me if I told them I'd bee n knocked off my horse and had my cattle run off. So I wen t and borrowed a horse and took out after those Mexicans.
    It was not only the cows; my mother's picture was i n the saddlebags, and the Plutarch. And the Joslyn carbin e was in the boot on Old Blue.
    That night I didn't come up with them, or the next , but the third night I did.
    They were around a water hole where there wer e some cottonwoods. It was the only water around and I wa s almighty thirsty, but I looked for Old Blue and saw hi m picketed off to one side.
    It was dark and I was hungry, and they had a fire goin g and some grub, and I shucked the old Shawk & McLanahan out of my pants and cocked her.
    The click of that gun cocking sounded loud in the night , and I said, not too loud, "You sit mighty still. I've com e for my horse and cows."
    "El niiio," the scarred Mexican said.
    I stepped into the light with the gun cocked.
    "Kill him," the scarred Mexican said. "Kill him an d they will think he took the cattle himself. Kill him an d bury him here."
    The other Mexican was sneaking a hand toward a gu n "Stop!" I said it loud, and I guess my voice sounde d shrill.
    He just dived at the gun, and I shot, and the bulle t knocked him rolling. He sprawled out and the other Mexican lunged at me, and I tried to turn, but before I coul d shoot there was a shot from the edge of the brush, an d then another.
    The Mexican diving at me fell face down, all sprawle d out, and then he rolled over and there was a blue hol e between his eyes, and the first Mexican, the one I shot, ha d another bullet that had torn off the side of his face after i t killed him.
    Logan Pollard stood there with a gun in his hand, hi s face as still and cold as always.
    "You should have told me, Rye. I didn't realize you' d had trouble until one of the men said you were bloody.
    Then I started after you."
    We walked over and looked down at the Mexican I h ad shot. My bullet was a little high .. . but not much.
    Pollard looked at me strangely, then caught up Ol d Blue and we started the cows toward home.
    The next day he told me to quit, and when I collecte d my money I had thirty-two dollars, all told. With that i n my pocket, and the money from my Pap, which I'd neve r touched yet, I felt rich. We started northwest into th e wild country around the San Juan,