; the
bitter taste to life did not come from that. The cup that stuck at his
lips was that his only son Ransom wanted to marry a Curtis, the last
youthful survivor of the other end of the feud.

*****

For a while the only sounds to be heard at the store were the rattling
of the tin spoons and the gurgling intake of the juicy fruits by the
cowpunchers, the stamping of the grazing ponies, and the singing of a
doleful song by Sam as he contentedly brushed his stiff auburn hair
for the twentieth time that day before a crinkly mirror.

From the door of the store could be seen the irregular, sloping
stretch of prairie to the south, with its reaches of light-green,
billowy mesquite flats in the lower places, and its rises crowned with
nearly black masses of short chaparral. Through the mesquite flat
wound the ranch road that, five miles away, flowed into the old
government trail to San Antonio. The sun was so low that the gentlest
elevation cast its grey shadow miles into the green-gold sea of
sunshine.

That evening ears were quicker than eyes.

The Mexican held up a tawny finger to still the scraping of tin
against tin.

"One waggeen," said he, "cross dthe Arroyo Hondo. Ah hear dthe wheel.
Verree rockee place, dthe Hondo."

"You've got good ears, Gregorio," said Mustang Taylor. "I never heard
nothin' but the song-bird in the bush and the zephyr skallyhootin'
across the peaceful dell."

In ten minutes Taylor remarked: "I see the dust of a wagon risin'
right above the fur end of the flat."

"You have verree good eyes, senor," said Gregorio, smiling.

Two miles away they saw a faint cloud dimming the green ripples of the
mesquites. In twenty minutes they heard the clatter of the horses'
hoofs: in five minutes more the grey plugs dashed out of the thicket,
whickering for oats and drawing the light wagon behind them like a
toy.

From the /jacals/ came a cry of: "El Amo! El Amo!" Four Mexican youths
raced to unharness the greys. The cowpunchers gave a yell of greeting
and delight.

Ranse Truesdell, driving, threw the reins to the ground and laughed.

"It's under the wagon sheet, boys," he said. "I know what you're
waiting for. If Sam lets it run out again we'll use those yellow shoes
of his for a target. There's two cases. Pull 'em out and light up. I
know you all want a smoke."

After striking dry country Ranse had removed the wagon sheet from the
bows and thrown it over the goods in the wagon. Six pair of ha