r's a passel o' Oregoners rendyvouin' out ter Round Grove," said
Hank. "If we're goin' with 'em we better jine 'em purty quick."

Tom shook his head. "I'm aimin' fer th' Arkansas this trip. Goin' ter
try it onct more."

Hank's jaw dropped. "Thar!" he snorted. "Kin ye beat that?"

"Glad ter hear it," said Jim Ogden. "We'll be with ye fur's th'
Crossin'; but ain't ye gamblin', Tom?"

"Armijo shore will run up th' flags an' order out his barefoot army,"
said Hank, grimly, "if he larns o' it. An' he'll mebby need th' army,
too."

"He'll larn o' it," declared Birdsall. "Thar's a passel o' greasers
goin' over th' trail with us--an' shore as shootin' some o' 'em will go
ahead with th' news arter we reach th' Cimarron. Don't be a danged fool,
Tom; you better go 'long th' Platte with th' emigrants."

"Can't do it," replied Tom. "I've give my word an' I'm goin' through ter
Santa Fe. Armijo'll larn o' it, all right. I've seen signs o' that
already. Some greaser fanned a knife at me on th' boat; but I couldn't
larn nothin' more about it."

"Dang my hide if I ain't got a good notion ter let ye go alone!" snorted
Hank, whereat a roar of laughter arose. It seemed that he was very well
known.

"I'll see how things bust," said Ogden. "I war aimin' fer Bent's, but
thar ain't no use o' gittin' thar much afore fall." He thought a moment,
and then slammed his hand on the table. "I'm goin' with ye, Tom!"

"Talkin' like a blind fool!" growled Zeb Houghton, his inseparable
companion. "I'm startin' fer th' fort, an' I'm goin' thar! If you ain't
got no sense, _I_ has!"

Hank laughed and winked at the others. "I'll go with ye, Zeb. Me an'
you'll go thar together an' let these two fools git stood up ag'in a
wall. Sarve 'em right if he cuts 'em up alive. We'll ask him ter send us
thar ears, fer ter remember 'em by."

Zeb's remarks about the Governor of New Mexico caused every head in the
room to turn his way, and called forth a running fire of sympathetic
endorsements. He banged the table with his fists. "Hank Marshall, ye got
more brains nor I has, but I got ter go 'long an' keep that pore critter
out o' trouble. If I don't he'll lose hoss _an'_ beaver!"

A stranger sauntered over, grinned at them and slid a revolving Colt
pistol on the table. "Thar, boys," he said. "Thar's what ye need if yer
goin' ter Santer Fe. I'm headin' fer home, back east. What'll ye give me
fer it, tradin' in yer old pistol? Had a run o' cussed bad luck last