ushion's saddle. They
had only disemboweled him, but Conajo had the heart as a trophy of the
accuracy of the shot, though Cushion hadn't a word to say. It was
a splendid heart shot. Conajo took it over and showed it to the two
Mexican prisoners. It was an object lesson to them. One said to the
other, "Es un buen tirador."

We put the prisoners to roasting the ribs, and making themselves
useful in general. One man guarded them at their work, while all the
others attended to the hobbling and other camp duties.

It proved to be a delightful camp. We aimed to stay until sunset, the
days being sultry and hot. Our appetites were equal to the breakfast,
and it was a good one.

"To do justice to an occasion like this," said Smoky as he squatted
down with about four ribs in his hand, "a man by rights ought to have
at least three fingers of good liquor under his belt. But then we
can't have all the luxuries of life in the far West; sure to be
something lacking."

"I never hear a man hanker for liquor," said Conajo, as he poured out
a tin cup of coffee, "but I think of an incident my father used to
tell us boys at home. He was sheriff in Kentucky before we moved to
Texas. Was sheriff in the same county for twelve years. Counties are
very irregular back in the old States. Some look like a Mexican brand.
One of the rankest, rabid political admirers my father had lived away
out on a spur of this county. He lived good thirty miles from the
county seat. Didn't come to town over twice a year, but he always
stopped, generally over night, at our house. My father wouldn't have
it any other way. Talk about thieves being chummy; why, these two we
have here couldn't hold a candle to that man and my father. I can see
them parting just as distinctly as though it was yesterday. He would
always abuse my father for not coming to see him. 'Sam,' he would
say,--my father's name was Sam,--'Sam, why on earth is it that
you never come to see me? I've heard of you within ten miles of my
plantation, and you have never shown your face to us once. Do you
think we can't entertain you? Why, Sam, I've known you since you
weren't big enough to lead a hound dog. I've known you since you
weren't knee to a grasshopper.'

"'Let me have a word,' my father would put in, for he was very mild
in speaking; 'let me have a word, Joe. I hope you don't think for a
moment that I wouldn't like to visit you; now do you?'

"'No, I don't think so, Sam, but you don't com