he
hadn't attempted to use it before.

He drew it and turned to face Fred; but just then Fred saw the weapon
and kicked it out of his hand.

"Oh you're not satisfied yet? You wanted to shoot, eh? Now, I'll show
you what shooting is," and he sent Terry into the house to get his
revolver and an apple.

There were a few green apples in the kitchen, which the cook intended to
stew that afternoon.

Terry came out with one of the apples in one hand and the revolver in
the other.

"Now, my good fellow, you take that apple and hold it between your thumb
and forefinger. Hold it out straight at arm's length, while I send a
bullet through it."

"Boss, I can't hold it."

"All right. If you don't hold it between your thumb and forefinger I'll
shoot at your hand."

"Boss, why don't you let me go? I've got enough, and I'll leave the
State."

"Hold out that apple," said Fred.

The man held the apple out at arm's length between his thumb and
forefinger, but his hand was trembling so that Fred had to be very
careful for fear that he would hit the hand and thus maim him for life:
but the bullet went square through the apple, and it fell to the ground.

The fellow nearly had a fit. He picked up the pieces of the apple and
looked at them.

"Now you want to leave this locality about as fast as your heels can
carry you," said Fred.

With that the fellow, without stopping to pick up his hat, turned around
and left, and all he would say to his companions was:

"Come, boys, let's get away from here. This is no place for us."

He stopped at the well, took a dipper full of water, and then started
off, while the other three followed him.

That big cowboy was never seen in that part of Texas afterward.

The storekeeper told the story to his customers as they came into the
store, and it was soon known all over that county.

The facts of the lynching of the four Mexican cattle thieves had been
published all over that part of the State, and Fred and Terry were
relieved from the odium of having had anything to do with the affair,
other than the capture of the men.

The sheriff and his deputies took charge of the bodies, as they were
found hanging to the trees, and buried them by the road-side.

They were buried in one pit, and above them was a head-board, on which
was painted in large letters the story of their fate.

Tom Hecker had written to four of his former cowboy companions that he
had found a place with Fearnot and O