ctus and laughed silently as he fingered his rifle. He could not think
out the game. Try as he would, he could find no really good excuse for
the placing of the guard, although many presented themselves, to be
finally cast aside. But the fact was enough, and when the moving shadow
gave assurance that nearly an hour had passed since the departure of
the guard's companions, the man with the grudge cautiously arose on one
knee.

After examining the contents of his rifle, he brought it slowly to
his shoulder. A quick, calculating glance told him that the range was
slightly over three hundred yards, and he altered the elevation of the
rear sights accordingly. After a pause, during which he gauged the
strength and velocity of the northern wind, he dropped his cheek against
the walnut stock of the weapon. The echoless report rang out flatly
and a sudden gust of hot wind whipped the ragged, gray smoke cloud into
the chaparral, where it lay close to the ground and spread out like a
miniature fog. As the smoke cleared away a second cartridge, inserted
deftly and quickly, sent another cloud of smoke into the chaparral
and the marksman arose to his feet, mechanically reloading his gun. The
second shot was for the guard's horse, for it would be unnecessarily
perilous to risk its rejoining the departed braves, which it very probably
would do if allowed to escape.

Dropping his rifle into the hollow of his arm he walked swiftly toward
the fallen Indian, hoping that there would be no more war parties, for
he had now made signs which the most stupid Apache could not fail to note
and understand. The dead guard could be hidden, and by the use of his own
horse and rope he could drag the carcass of the animal into the chaparral
and out of sight. But the trail which would be left in the loose sand
would be too deep and wide to be covered. He had crossed the Rubicon, and
must stand or fall by the step.

The Indian had fallen forward against the bowlder and had slid down its
side, landing on his head and shoulders, in which grotesque position the
rock supported him. One glance assured the "cowman" that his aim had
been good, and another told him that he had to fear the arrival of no
more war parties, for the arrow was gone. He was not satisfied, however,
until he had made a good search for it, thinking that it might have
been displaced by the fall of the Apache. He lifted the body of the
dead warrior in his arms and flung it across the apex