ou?" demanded Pringle testily. "What did you
expect me to do--send 'em a note by registered mail?"

"I'm not speaking about Applegate. That was all right. I am speaking
about your friend."

"Here; Kit's coming to life again," said Lisner.

Kitty Foy rolled over; they propped him up; he looked round rather
wildly from one to the other. His face cleared. His eye fell upon
Pringle, where it rested with a steady intentness. When he spoke, at
last, he ignored the others entirely.

"And I thought you were my friend, Pringle. I trusted you!" he said
with ominous quietness. "I'll make a note of it. I have a good memory,
Pringle--and good friends. Give me some water, someone. I feel sick."

Espalin brought a canteen.

"Take your time, Chris," said Lisner. "Tell us when you feel able to
go."

"I'll be all right after a little. Say, boys, it was the queerest
feeling--coming to, I mean. I could almost hear your voices, first.
Then I heard them a long ways off but I couldn't make any sense to the
words. Here; let me lean my back up against this rock and sit quiet
for a while. Then we'll go. I'm giddy yet."

"I've got it!" announced Nueces a moment later. "Barela, he's
hankering to be sheriff--that's the trouble. He wanted to take Chris
himself, to help things along. That would be quite a feather in any
man's hat--done fair. And the sheriff, natural enough, he don't want
nothing of the kind."

"That's it," said Anastacio, amusement in his eyes. "I knew you were a
good gunman, Nueces, but I never suspected you of brains before."

"What's the matter with that guess?" said Nueces sulkily. "Kid, you're
always ridin' me. Don't you try to use any spurs!"

"I'm in on that," said Pringle, rising brightly. "That's my happy
chance to join in this lovin' conversation. Speaking about gunmen, I'm
a beaut! See that hawk screechin' around up there? Well, watch!"

The hawk soared high above. Pringle barely raised Foy's rifle to his
shoulder as he fired; the hawk tumbled headlong. Pringle jerked the
lever, throwing another cartridge into the barrel, as if to fire again
at the falling bird. Inconceivably swift, the cocked rifle whirled to
cover the seated posse.

"Steady!" said Pringle. "I'm watchin' you, Nueces! Chris, when
you're able to walk, go on down and pick you a horse from that bunch.
Unsaddle the others and drive 'em along a ways as you go." Still
speaking, he edged behind the cover of a high rock. "I'll address the
meetin'