from his horse, tore the pad from its back, slapped it on
the flank, and turned away, reckless of where it went. He cut himself a
steak and set to cooking his food, an uncompromising shoulder turned in
our direction; nor did he open his mouth to utter another word until the
general discussion later in the evening. Don Gaspar, who owned the only
riding saddle, unharnessed his horse, led it to water, knee haltered it,
and turned it loose to graze. While he was gone no one spoke, but we
glanced at each other darkly. He returned, sat down by the fire, rolled
himself a cigarette, and volunteered his story.

"My fren'," said he, with a directness and succinctness utterly foreign
to his everyday speech, "you want to know what happen'. Ver' well; it
was like this."

He told us that, after we had left them, they hurried on as fast as
possible in order to reach the settled country. Owing to the excellence
of his animal he was generally some distance in advance. At one point,
stopping on a slight elevation to allow them to catch up, he looked back
in time to see two men on horseback emerge from the chaparral just
behind his companions. Don Gaspar shouted and leaped from his saddle;
but before the warning had reached the others, a riata from the hand of
one of the men had fallen with deadly accuracy around Yank's arms and
body, jerking him violently from the saddle. The thrower whirled his
horse to drag his victim, Don Gaspar fired, and by great good luck shot
the animal through the brain. It fell in a heap, pinning its rider
beneath it. In the meantime Barry had leaped to the ground, and from
behind the shelter of his horse had shot the first robber through the
body. Our two companions now drew together, and took refuge behind some
large rocks, preparing to receive the charge of a band of half dozen who
now appeared. The situation looked desperate. Don Gaspar fired and
missed. He was never anything of a marksman, and his first shot must
have been a great piece of luck. Barry held his fire. The robbers each
discharged his rifle, but harmlessly. Then just as they seemed about to
charge in, they whirled their horses and made off into the brush.

"We could not tell the why," observed Don Gaspar.

The two men did not speculate, but ran out to where Yank lay, apparently
dead, his arms still bound close to his body by the noose of the riata.
Barry cut the rope with his bowie knife, and they rolled him over. They
found he still breath