seriousness of the situation. "Me, I been punchin' cows, ridin' a
hawss fo' a livin' fo' nigh thirty years," said Mormon. "I ain't what
you'd call sooperannuated yit, if I am bald. I'm healthy as a woodchuck.
But I'm so goldarned, hunky-chunky, hawg-fat I can't ride a hawss no
mo'--not faster 'n a walk or further than two mile', fo' fear of
breakin' his back. So I git left home to sit in a damn rockin' chair!
Hell and damnation!"

"You're going to follow him, aren't you?"

"That was jest Sandy's way of lettin' me down easy. Sam'll go, but I'll
stay to home. I'm goin' to give away my guns an' learn milkin'. Sandy's
got about three hours of daylight. He'll go 'cross lots on the hawss,
fur as he reckons the sign shows safe, an' no man can read sign better'n
Sandy. Then he'll play snake an' he can beat an Indian at takin' cover.
He'll drift over open country 'thout bein' spotted an', up there in the
range, they'll never see, smell or hear him till he's on top of 'em an'
his guns are doin' the talkin'. You ought to see him in action. I've
done it. I've been in action with him, me an' Sam. Now all I'm good fo'
is a close quarters ra'r an' tumble. He w'udn't take Sam erlong fo' fear
of hurtin' my feelin's though even Sam 'ud be some handicap to Sandy on
this trip of scoutin'.

"Sam can't take cover extra good, though he shoots middlin'. Sandy, he
shoots like lightnin' fast an' straight."

"But there are four against him, at least."

"Fo' what?" asked Mormon with a look of scorn. "Plimsoll an' three of
his cronies. Mebbe one or two mo' chucked in fo' good measure. What of
it? Yeller, all of 'em, yeller as the belly of a Gila River pizen
lizard. On'y way the odds 'ud be even w'ud be fo' them to git the drop
on Sandy an' it can't be done. He's got his fightin' face on an' that
means hands an' heart an' eyes an' brain an' every inch of him lined up
to win. Sandy fights with his head an' he's got the heart to back it.
Hell's bells, marm, beggin' yo' pardon ag'in, I ain't worryin' none
erbout Sandy! I ain't seen him lose out yet. I'm cussin' about
_me_--warmin' an armchair an' waddlin' round like a fall hawg."

Mormon slammed his hat on the floor and jumped on it and Miss Nicholson
fled, a little reassured by Mormon's eulogy, anxious to talk it over
with Sam.

Sandy, his eyes like the mica flakes that show in gray granite, his
humorous mouth a stern line, little bunches of muscles at the junction
of his jaws, held the pinto