kicked. I suppose they
thought my general entanglement with this extraordinary series of events
entitled me to more than was coming to me as ordinary cow hand. For a
long time we proceeded in silence. Then, as we neared the hills, Buck
began to lay out his plan.

"When we come up on Cockeye," he was explaining, "I want you to take a
half dozen men or so and throw around the other side on the Cochise
trail----"

His speech was cut short by the sound of a rifle shot. The country was
still flat, unsuited for concealment or defence. We were riding
carelessly. A shivering shock ran through my frame and my horse plunged
wildly. For an instant I thought I must be hit, then I saw that the
bullet had cut off cleanly the horn of my saddle--within two inches of
my stomach!

Surprise paralyzed us for the fraction of a second. Then we charged the
rock pile from which the shot had come.

We found there Old Man Hooper seated in a pool of his own blood. He had
been shot through the body and was dead. His rifle lay across a rock,
trained carefully on the trail. How long he had sat there nursing the
vindictive spark of his vitality nobody will ever know--certainly for
some hours. And the shot delivered had taken from him the last flicker
of life.

"By God, he was sure game!" Buck Johnson pronounced his epitaph.

CHAPTER XVII

We cleaned up at the ranch and herded our prisoners together and rode
back to Box Springs. The seven men who had been segregated from the rest
by Buck Johnson were not among them. I never found out what had become
of them nor who had executed whatever decrees had been pronounced
against them. There at the home ranch we found Miss Emory very anxious,
excited, and interested. Buck and the others in authority left me to
inform her of what had taken place.

I told you some time back that this is no love story; but I may as well
let you in on the whole sequel to it, and get it off my chest. Windy's
scheme brought immediate results. The partnership agreement was
recorded, and after the usual legal red-tape Miss Emory came into the
property. She had to have a foreman for the ranch, and hanged if she
didn't pick on me! Think of that; me an ordinary, forty-dollar cow
puncher! I tried to tell her that it was all plumb foolishness, that
running a big cattle ranch was a man-sized job and took experience, but
she wouldn't listen. Women are like that. She'd seen me blunder in and
out of a series of adventures a