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he was enjoying it all, feeling real comfort, a kind of fitness, as if he belonged here and would better remain here for ever. Then, with a generous supply of alfalfa tossed to him, as to the other horses, he became convinced that he should remain in this little settlement for all time. Along in the afternoon the storekeeper, accompanied by a native woman, who was tear-stained and weeping, crossed the settlement. At the moment the men, lounging about on blankets, were discussing ways and means for Stephen. He need not continue with them now, they informed him, unless he wanted to. Arrangements could be made here to get him to a railroad in some kind of vehicle, leading Pat behind. But it was up to him. They weren't hurrying him away, by any means, yet it sure was up to him to get proper treatment for his arm, which showed slow signs of recovery. Stephen was considering this when the two Mexicans approached. The proprietor of the store started to explain, when the little woman draped in a black mantilla interrupted him with further sobbing and a pointing finger--pointing back across the settlement. "_Caballeros_," she began, "you coom please wit' me, I--I haf show you soomt'ing." Then again she burst into weeping. Startled, Stephen arose, and the others gained their feet. They set out across the settlement. They struck between some adobe houses, crossed some back yards, dodged under clothes-lines, and found themselves in a tiny graveyard. The woman brought them to a stop before a fresh mound of earth. Here she knelt in another outburst of tears, while the gimlet-eyed storekeeper explained. It was a little boy twelve years old. The marauders had stolen his pig. He had bitterly denounced them, and one--evidently the leader--had shot him. It was too bad! But it was not all. In one of the houses, the large house they had passed in coming here, lay an old man, seventy-eight years of age, dying from a rifle-shot. Yes, the renegade Indians had shot him also. What had he done? He had defended his chickens against theft. It was too bad! It was all too bad! Could not there something be done? To live in peace, to live in strict accord with all known laws, such was the aim and such had been the conduct of these people. And then to have a band of cutthroats, murderers, thieves, descend upon their peace and quiet in this fashion! It was all too bad! The rangers turned away from the scene. All save the woman set out across
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