nd of running feet drew nearer, and suddenly the group at the
door broke to admit the Mexican. One side of his terrified face
was covered with blood. His eyes were staring, his hands raised, he
staggered as if about to fall.

"Senyor William! Senyor William!" he cried, and then called on Saint
Somebody.

"Jim Williams! I said so," muttered Bud.

Bill caught hold of the excited Mexican, and pulled him nearer the
light.

"Thet ain't a bad hurt. Jest cut his ear off!" aid Bill. "Hyar, stand
still, you wild man! you're not goin' to die. Git some water, Herky.
Fellers, Greaser has been oneasy ever since he knew Jim Williams was
lookin' fer him. He thinks Jim did this. But Jim Williams don't use a
rifle, an', what's more, when he shoots he don't miss. You all heerd the
rifle-shot."

"Then it was old Bent or Leslie?" questioned Buell.

"Leslie it were. Bent uses a 45-90 caliber. Thet shot we heerd was from
the little 38--the kid's gun."

"Wal, it was a narrer escape fer Greaser," said Bud. "Leslie's sore, an'
he'll shoot fer keeps. Buell, you've started somethin'."

When Bill had washed the blood off the Mexican it was found that the
ball had carried away the lower part of the ear, and with it, of
course, the gold earring. The wound must have been extremely painful;
it certainly took all the starch out of Greaser. He kept mumbling in his
own language, and rolling his wicked black eyes and twisting his thin,
yellow hands.

"What's to be done?" asked Buell, sharply.

"Thet's fer you to say," replied Bill, with his exasperating calmness.

"Must we hang up here to be shot at? Leslie's takin' a long chance on
thet kid's life if he comes slingin' lead round this cabin."

Herky-Jerky spat tobacco-juice across the room and grunted. Then, with
his beady little eyes as keen and cold as flint, he said: "Buell, Leslie
knows you daren't harm the kid; an' as fer bullets, he'll take good care
where he stings 'em. This deal of ours begins to look like a wild-goose
stunt. It never was safe, an' now it's worse."

Here was even Herky-Jerky harping on Buell's situation. To me it did not
appear much more serious than before. But evidently they thought Buell
seemed on the verge of losing control of himself. He glared at Herky,
and rammed his fists in his pockets and paced the long room. Presently
he stepped out of the door.

A rifle cracked clear and sharp, another bellowed out heavy and hollow.
A bullet struck the door-post, a se