."

No one answered.

"Sulky, hey? Well, anyhow, call it off long enough to drive this
Pringle thing away from here. He ain't fittin' for no man to herd
with."

"I'm staying right with this man Foy till I get that reward,"
announced Pringle. "Those are my superintentions. Much I care what you
think about me! There's other places besides this."

Breslin raised his eye from Foy's face and regarded Pringle without
heat--a steady, contemplative look, as of one who studies some strange
and interesting animal. Then he waved his hand down the pass, where
certain of the departing posse, were bringing the saddle horses in
obedience to the sheriff's instructions.

"They'll carry a nice report of you," observed Breslin quietly. "What
do you suppose that little girl will think?"

A flicker of red came to Pringle's hard brown face. Even the scorn of
Espalin and Creagan had left him unabashed, but now he winced visibly;
and, for once, he had no reply to make.

Foy gasped, struggled to a sitting position, aided by his oddly
assorted ministrants, gazed round in a dazed condition and lapsed back
into unconsciousness.

"I'll take my dyin' oath it ain't the cut that ails him," said the
ranger, tucking a coat under Foy's blood-stained head. "That must have
been a horrible jolt on his jaw, Pringle. You're no kind of a man at
all--no part of a man. You're a shameless, black-hearted traitor; but
I got to hand it to you as a slugger. Two knock-outs in one day--and
such men as them! I don't understand it."

"He 'most keel Applegate," said the Mexican.

"Aw, it's easy!" said Pringle eagerly. "There ain't one man in a
thousand knows how to fight. It ain't cussin' and gritting your teeth,
and swellin' up your biceps and clenching your fists up tight that
does the trick. You want to hit like there wasn't anybody there. I'll
show you sometime."

He paused inquiringly, as if to book any acceptance of this kindly
offer. No such engagements being made, Pringle continued:

"Supposin' you was throwin' a baseball and your hand struck a man
accidentally; you'd hurt him every time--only you'd break your arm
that way. That ain't the way to strike. I'll show you."

"That wasn't no olive branch I was holdin' out," stated Nueces River.
"You'll show me nothin'--turncoat!"

"It helps a lot, too, when the man you hit is not expecting it,"
suggested Anastacio smoothly. "You might show me sometime--when I'm
looking for it."

"Now what's biting y