ewhat; but
when the great flat plain was reached and the rough belt left behind,
two wagons had been overturned and held up the whole caravan while they
were unloaded, righted, and re-packed. Since no one had been injured the
misfortunes had been taken lightly and the columns went on again in good
spirits.

It was not yet noon when the advance guard came upon an unusual sight.
The plain was torn and scored and covered with sheepskin saddle-pads,
broken riding gear, battered and discarded firelocks of so ancient a
vintage that it were doubtful whether they would be as dangerous to an
enemy as they might be to their owners; broken lances, bows and arrows,
torn clothing, a two-wheeled cart overturned and partly burned, and half
a score dead mules and horses.

Captain Woodson looked from the strewed ground, around the faces of his
companions.

"Injuns an' greasers?" he asked, glancing at the remains of the
_carreta_ in explanation of the "greaser" end of the couplet. The
replies were affirmative in nature until Tom Boyd, looking fixedly at
one remnant of clothing, swept it from the ground and regarded it in
amazement. Without a word he passed it on to Hank, who eyed it knowingly
and sent it along.

"I'm bettin' th' Texans licked 'em good," growled Tom. "It's about time
somebody paid 'em fer that damnable, two thousand mile trail o'
sufferin' an' death! Wish I'd had a hand in this fight!"

Assenting murmurs came from the hunters and trappers, all of whom would
have been happy to have pulled trigger with the wearers of the coats
with the Lone Star buttons.

Tom shook his head after a moment's reflection. "Hope it war reg'lar
greaser troops an' not poor devils pressed inter service. That's th'
worst o' takin' revenge; ye likely take it out o' th' hides of them that
ain't to blame, an' th' _guilty_ dogs ain't hurt."

"Mebby Salezar war leadin' 'em!" growled Hank. "Hope so!"

"Hope not!" snapped Tom, his eyes glinting. "_I_ want Salezar! I want
him in my two hands, with plenty o' time an' nobody around! I'd as soon
have _him_ as Armijo!"

"Who's he?" asked a tenderfoot. "And what about the Texans, and this
fight here?"

"He's the greaser cur that had charge o' th' Texan prisoners from Santa
Fe to El Paso, where they war turned over to a gentleman an' a
Christian," answered Tom, his face tense. "I owe him fer th' death, by
starvation an' abuse, of as good a friend as any man ever had: an' if I
git my hands on him he