are the real wild-horse experts, Kirby. Not much the
Trinfans don't know about horses." _Don_ Cazar was already on his way to
the door and Drew fell in behind Bartolome.

The Trinfan outfit was small, considering the job they intended, Drew
thought. A cart pulled by two mules, lightly made and packed high, was the
nucleus of their small caravan. Burros--two of them--were roped behind and,
to Drew's surprise, a cow, bawling fretfully and intended, he later
learned, to play foster mother to any unweaned foals which might be picked
up. The cart was driven by a Mexican in leather breeches and jacket over a
red shirt. Behind him rode the boy and girl Drew had seen in the Tubacca
alley, mounted on rangy, nervous horses that had speed in every line of
their under-fleshed bodies. Each rider trailed four spare mounts roped
nose to tail.

"_Buenos dias, Don_ Cazar." For so small a man the Mexican on the cart
seat produced a trumpet-sized voice. He touched the roll-edged brim of his
sombrero, and Drew noted that his arm was crooked as if in the past it had
been broken and poorly set.

"_Buenos dias, Senor_ Trinfan. This house is yours." Rennie went to the
side of the cart. "The west corral is ready for your use as always. Draw
on the stores for any need you may have--"

"_Gracias, Don_ Cazar." It was the thanks of equal to equal. "You have
some late news of the wild ones?"

"Only that the pinto still runs near the well."

"That spotted one--_si_, he is an Apache for cunning, for deviltry of
spirit. It may be that this time he will not be the lucky one. There is in
him a demon. Did I not see him, with my own eyes, kill a foal, tear flesh
from the flanks of its dam when she tried to drop out of the run? _Si_--a
real _diablo_, that one!"

"Get rid of him one way or another, Trinfan. He is a danger to the Range.
He killed another stud this season. I am as sure of that as if I had seen
him in action."

"Ah, the blue one you thought might be a runner to match Oro. _Si_, that
was a great pity, _Don_ Cazar. Well, we shall try, we shall try this time
to put that _diablo_ under!"

An hour later Drew was facing a _diablo_ of his own, with far less
confidence than Hilario Trinfan had voiced. Just how stupid could one be?
Around him now were men trained from early childhood to this life, and he
could show no skill at their employment. All the way out from Texas he had
practiced doggedly with the lariat, and his best fell far short o