The other dragged
himself to Sundown's feet and clawed at his knees. "'Sandro . . . It
is--that I--die. You don' keel . . . You don' . . ."

Sundown dragged the herder to the house and into the bedroom. He got
water, for which the herder called piteously. With his own blanket he
made him as comfortable as he could. Then he built a fire that he
might have light. The herder was shot through the thigh, and had all
but bled to death dragging himself across the mesa from where he had
fallen from his horse. Sundown tried to stop the bleeding with strips
torn from his bandanna. Meanwhile the wounded man was imploring him
not to kill him.

"I'm doin' me best to fix you up, Dago," said Sundown. "But you better
go ahead and say them prayers--and you might put in a couple for Sinker
what you shot. I reckon his slug cut the big vein and you got to go.
Wisht I could do somethin' . . . to help . . . you stay . . . but mebby
it's better that you cross over easy. Then the boys don't get you."

The Mexican seemed to understand. He nodded as he lay gazing at the
lean figure illumined by the dancing light of the open stove. "Si.
You good hombre, si," he gasped.

Sundown frowned. "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to
glory with you. Sinker--what you shot--was me friend. I ought to kill
you like a snake. But God A'mighty took the job off me hands. I
reckon that makes me square with--with Sinker--and Him."

Again Sundown brought water to the herder. Gently he raised his head
and held the cup to his lips. Chance stood in the middle of the room
strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with
alert eyes. The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died
down. The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to
emphasize the ghastly picture--the barren, rough-boarded room, the
rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and
the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless,
as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day.

The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the
faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway. He grew
instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide
eyes toward the south.

Sundown nodded. "It's the boys," he said, as though speaking to
himself. "I was hopin' he could die easy. I dunno."

'Sandro raised his hands and implored Sundown to