s of hundreds of thousands of thrifty
farmers, would have remained for many years longer what it had been
from the beginning--a hunting and battle ground for Indians, and a safe
retreat for wild game.

What was the hardship, and what the personal risk with which this great
pioneer work was accomplished, few know except those who had a hand in
it, and they as a rule, were modest men who thought little of what they
did, and now that it is done, say less.

CHAPTER III

A SELF-CONSTITUTED EXECUTIONER

Some think it fair to give a man warnin' you intend to kill him on
sight, an' then get right down to business as soon as you meet. But
that ain't no equal chance for both. The man that sees his enemy first
has the advantage, for the other is sure to be more or less rattled.

"Others consider it a square deal to stan' back to back with drawn
pistols, to walk five paces apart an' then swing and shoot. But even
this way is open to objections. While both may be equally brave an'
determined, one may be blamed nervous, like, an' excitable, while the
other is cool and deliberate; one may be a better shot than the other,
or one may have bad eyes.

"I tell you, gentlemen, none o' these deals are fair; they are
murderous. If you want to kill a man in a neat an' gentlemanly way
that will give both a perfectly equal show for life, let both be put in
a narrow hole in the ground that they can't git out of, their left arms
securely tied together, their right hands holdin' bowie knives, an' let
them cut, an' cut an' cut till one is down."

His heavy brow contracted into a fierce frown; his black eyes narrowed
and glittered balefully; his surging blood reddened the bronzed cheeks.

"Let them cut, I say, cut to a finish. That's fightin', an' fightin'
dead fair. Ah!" and the hard lines of the scarred face softened into a
look of infinite longing and regret, "if only I could find another man
with nerve enough to fight me that way!"

The speaker was Mr. Clay Allison, formerly of Cimarron, later domiciled
at Pope's Crossing. His listeners were cowboys. The scene was a
round-up camp on the banks of the Pecos River near the mouth of Rocky
Arroyo. Mr. Allison was not dilating upon a theory. On the contrary,
he was eminently a man of practice, especially in the matters of which
he was speaking. Indeed he was probably the most expert taker of human
life that ever heightened the prevailing dull colors of a frontier
community.