heels of the gringo dogs and our scouts will find their camp in the
night. Before another sun rises in the heavens we will have their ears
at our belts and their trade goods on the way to the Valley of Taos!
Forward, my braves! Forward, my warriors! Pedro leads you to glory!"

They snapped forward in their saddles as the spurs went home, their
rifles at the ready, their advance guard steadily forging ahead, and
thundered along the tracks of the fleeing _atejo_. Rounding the little
hill with its frowsy cap of brush and scrub timber, they received a
stunning surprise; for dropping down the steep bank as if from the sky
charged twenty-odd vengeful Texans, their repeating rifles cracking like
the roll of a drum. Pedro's exultant face became a sickly yellow, his
burning eyes in an instant changed to glass, and his boasting words
were slashed across by the death rattle in his throat. Volley after
volley crashed and roared as the charging Texans wheeled to charge back
again, and as they turned once more on the hillside they pulled up
sharply and viewed the havoc of their deadly work. No man was left to
carry tales, and Pedro had spoken with prophetic vision, for he had
indeed led his warriors to glory--and oblivion.

CHAPTER XVII

"'SPRESS FROM BENT'S"

Circling back to the river so as not to lose its guidance nor stray too
far out of the direct course, they reached its desolate banks at
nightfall and camped at the base of a low hill on the top of which grew
dense masses of greasewood. Zeb had shot a black-tailed deer on their
way to the river and their supper that night, so far as the meat was
concerned, would have delighted the palate of an epicure. Cooked over
the hot, sputtering, short-lived greasewood, which constantly was added,
and kept on the windward side of the blaze, the flavor of the meat was
very little affected and they gorged, hunter-like, until they could eat
no more; and partly smoked some of the remaining meat to have against
some pressing need.

As the stream dwindled the nature of its banks and of the surrounding
country changed, the vegetation steadily becoming more desert-like.
White chalk cliffs arose like painted eyebrows from the tops of the
banks, where erosion had revealed them; loose and disintegrating
sandstone lay about the broken plain in myriads of shapes. Stunted and
dead cottonwoods added their touch to the general scene, leaning this
way and that, weird, uncanny, ghostlike. The