se the transaction. Stepping to his horse,
he took two small canvas sacks from his saddle-pockets. Still the
lieutenant hesitated. He had had no instructions covering such a
contingency.

"I await your receipt, senor," said Ortez as he handed the money to
Pete.

Pete drew a folded slip of paper from his pocket and gave it quickly to
Ortez. "Brent'll push the cattle through muy pronto." And whirling
his horse round under spur, he was halfway back to the Olla gate before
the lieutenant thought of signaling to Arguilla.

From the vantage of the higher ground the lieutenant could see that the
gate was already open--that the Gringos were slowly pushing the cattle
through, and out to the desert. He waved his serape. Almost on the
instant Arguilla's men appeared in the distance, quirting their ponies
as they raced toward the coulee. The lieutenant turned and gazed at
the herd, which, from bunching through the gateway, had spread out
fanwise. Already the Ortez vaqueros were riding out to take charge.
But something was happening over near the Olla gate. The American
cowboys had scattered and were riding hard, and behind them faint
flashes cut the dusk and answering flashes came from those who fled.
The lieutenant shouted and spread his arms, signaling Arguilla to stop
as he and his men swung round the mouth of the coulee below. Some
thirty riders from the T-Bar-T, the Blue Range, and the Concho swept
through the gateway and began shooting at the Ortez vaqueros. Arguilla
saw that his own plan had gone glimmering. Ortez had in some way
played the traitor. Moreover, they were all on American territory.
The herd had stampeded and scattered. In the fading light Arguilla saw
one after another of the Ortez vaqueros go down. Did this noble
captain of Liberty, Equality, and Fraternity rush to the rescue of his
countrymen? He did not. Cursing, he swung his horse toward the south,
followed by his amazed and altogether uncomprehending soldiery. There
had been too many Gringoes in that wild, shrilling cavalcade to suit
his fancy. Meanwhile the Mexican lieutenant wisely disappeared down
the western edge of the coulee and rode wide until he deemed it safe to
change his course and follow in the dusty wake of his noble leader's
"strategic retreat."

Only one of the Ortez riders escaped the sudden and furious visitation
of the northern cattlemen, and he escaped because his horse, mortally
wounded, had fallen upon him. In