th he told me a story of a cave where he found
a trunk. Where it had come from or why it was hidden he did not know, but
these books were in it. Like some men who have no formal education, Amos
is highly respectful of the printed word. He thought the books of great
value and so brought them here."

Drew opened the top volume. Back home books as well bound as these would
have carried a personal bookplate or at least the written name of the
owner, but the fly leaf was bare. They had the look of well-read,
cherished volumes but no mark of possession.

"You have perhaps read these?" Stein asked.

Drew picked up _The Three Musketeers_. "Not likely to forget this one," he
said, grinning. "Earned me a good ten with the cane when I read it instead
of dealing faithfully with Caesar's campaigns in Gaul. I did get to finish
it before I was caught out." The pages separated stiffly under his
exploring fingers as if the volume had not been opened for a long time. He
did not notice that Stein was eyeing him with new appraisal.

"These for sale?"

"In Stein's everything is for sale." The storekeeper named a price, and
Drew bargained. When he left, the three books reposed on the top of his
armload of clothing, and a half hour later he dropped them down on a
cantina table. Anse came from the bathhouse and sat down in the opposite
chair. His booted foot moved, but now rowel points flashed in the sun. The
Texan regarded the Mexican spurs joyfully, stooped to jingle them with his
finger tip.

"Can't believe it ... how they came back to you," he marveled. "One of
them Yankees musta took 'em off me, thinkin' I was cashin' in m' chips.
Sure feels good to git 'em back on my heels agin, sorta like they was m'
luck. Pa, he set a right lot by them spurs. Gave 'em to me when I gentle
broke a wild one none o' th' other boys could back. Was I turkey-cock
proud th' first day I rode into town with 'em playin' pretty tunes, even
though I strapped 'em on over boots as was only three pieces of leather
hangin' to each other restless like. Yeah, Pa, he got 'em in the Mexican
War, an' me, I wore 'em mostly through this past ruckus. They's sure seen
a lotta history bein' made by men climbin' up an' down from saddles!"

"Let's hope ... no more wars." Drew set the three books in a pile and
regarded them attentively. Stein's story of their origin--out of a trunk
hidden in a desert cave--was most intriguing. What else had been in that
trunk?

"Anse," he