of the bowlder,
face up and balanced nicely, the head pointing to the north. Then he
looked for the arrow on the sand where the body had rested, but it was
not to be found. A sardonic grin flitted across his face as he secured
the weapons of the late guard, which were a heavy Colt's revolver and a
late pattern Winchester repeater. Taking the cartridges from his body, he
stood up triumphant. He now had what he needed to meet the smaller body
of Indians on their return, ten shots in one rifle and a spare Colt's.

"One for my cavvieyeh!" he muttered savagely as he thought of the loss of
his horse herd. "There'll be more, too, before I get through, or my
name's not"-- he paused abruptly, hearing hoofbeats made by a galloping
horse over a stretch of hard soil which lay to the east of him. Leaping
quickly behind the bowlder, he leveled his own rifle across the body of
the guard and peered intently toward the east, wondering if the advancing
horseman would be the sheriff or another Apache. The hoofbeats came
rapidly nearer and another courier turned the corner of the chaparral
and went no further. Again a second shot took care of the horse and the
marksman strode to his second victim, from whose body and horse he took
another Winchester and Colt.

"Now I am in for it!" he muttered as he looked down at the warrior. "This
is shore getting warm and it'll be a d----n sight warmer if his friends
get anxious about him and hunt him up."

Glancing around the horizon and seeing no signs of an interruption, he
slung the body across his shoulders and staggered with it to the bowlder,
where he heaved and pushed it across the body of the first Apache.

"Might as well make a good showing and make them mad, for I can't very
well hide you and the cayuses--I ain't no graveyard," he said, stepping
back to look at his work. He felt no remorse, for that was a sensation
not yet awakened in his consciousness. He was elated at his success,
joyous in catering to his love for fighting, for he would rather die
fighting than live the round of years heavily monotonous with peace,
and his only regret was having won by ambush. But in this, he told
himself, there was need, for his hatred ordered him to kill as many as
he could, and in any way possible. Knowing that he was, single-handed,
attempting to outwit wily chiefs and that he had before him a carnival of
fighting, he would not have hesitated to make use of traps if they were
at hand and could be us