ht on.
the berrendo. He'll run like a scared deer at the first shot. Hustle the
beeves over the pass an' keep 'em movin' till you come to Lost Cache."

Crouched over the blanket, they discussed details and settled them.
Yankie rose to leave and Roush followed him to his horse.

"Don't git a notion I'm scared of Albeen, Joe," he explained. "No
one-armed, hammered-down little runt can bluff me for a second. When I'm
good an' ready I'll settle with him, but I'm not goin' to wreck this
business we're on by any personal difficulty."

"That's right, Dave," agreed the foreman of the Flying V Y. "We all
understand how you feel."

Yankie, busy fastening a cinch, had his forehead pressed against the
saddle and could afford a grin. He knew that the courage of a killer is
largely dependent on his physical well-being. If he is cold or hungry or
exhausted, his nerve is at low ebb; if life is running strong in his
arteries his grit is above par. For years Roush had been drinking to
excess. He had reached the point where he dared not face in the open a
man like Albeen with nerves of unflawed steel. The declension of a
gunman, if once it begins, is rapid and sure. One of those days, unless
Roush were killed first, some mild-looking citizen would take his gun
from him and kick him out of a bar-room.

The foreman traveled fast, but the first streaks of morning were already
lighting the sky when he reached Rabbit Ear Creek, upon which was the
Flying V Y Ranch No. 3 of which he was majordomo. He unsaddled, threw the
bronco into the corral, and walked to the foreman's bunkhouse. Without
undressing, he flung himself upon the bed and fell asleep at one. He
awoke to see a long slant of sunshine across the bare planks of the
floor.

Some one was hammering on the door. Webb opened it and put in his head
just as the Segundo jumped to his feet.

"Makin' up some lost sleep, Joe?" inquired the owner of the ranch
amiably.

"I been out nights a good deal tryin' to check the rustlers," answered
Yankie sullenly. He had been caught asleep in his clothes and it annoyed
him. Would the old man guess that he had been in the saddle all night?

"Glad to hear you're gettin' busy on that job. They've got to be stopped.
If you can't do it I'll have to try to find a man that can, Joe."

"Mebbe you think it's an easy job, Webb," retorted the other, a chip on
his shoulder. "If you do it costs nothin' Mex to fire me an' try some
other guy."

"I don't say