d
been killed by lightning. The accident must have occurred near dawn,
as the man was not missed until daybreak, and like ours, his cattle had
drifted with the storm. Some time was lost in finding the body, and to
add to the panic that had already stricken the outfit, the shirt of the
unfortunate vaquero was burnt from the corpse. The horse had escaped
scathless, though his rider met death, while the housings were stripped
from the saddle so that it fell from the animal. The Mexican foreman
and vaqueros had thrown their hands in the air; steeped in superstition,
they considered the loss of their comrade a bad omen, and refused to go
farther. The herd was as good as abandoned unless we could lend a hand.

The appeal was not in vain. Detailing four of my men, and leaving Jack
Splann as segundo in charge of our cattle, I galloped away with the
stranger. As we rode the short distance between the two herds and I
mentally reviewed the situation, I could not help but think it was
fortunate for the alien outfit that their employer was a Northern cowman
instead of a Texan. Had the present owner been of the latter school,
there would have been more than one dead Mexican before a valuable
herd would have been abandoned over an unavoidable accident. I kept my
thoughts to myself, however, for the man had troubles enough, and on
reaching his drifting herd, we turned them back on their course. It was
high noon when we reached his wagon and found the Mexican outfit still
keening over their dead comrade. We pushed the cattle, a mixed herd
of about twenty-five hundred, well past the camp, and riding back,
dismounted among the howling vaqueros. There was not the semblance of
sanity among them. The foreman, who could speak some little English,
at least his employer declared he could, was carrying on like a madman,
while a majority of the vaqueros were playing a close second. The dead
man had been carried in and was lying under a tarpaulin in the shade
of the wagon. Feeling that my boys would stand behind me, and never
offering to look at the corpse, I inquired in Spanish of the vaqueros
which one of the men was their corporal. A heavy-set, bearded man was
pointed out, and walking up to him, with one hand I slapped him in the
face and with the other relieved him of a six-shooter. He staggered
back, turned ashen pale, and before he could recover from the surprise,
in his own tongue I berated him as a worthless cur for deserting his
employer