erstand these
Gringos?" After a time he approached cautiously and inquired: "What
shall we do with this hombre, senor? Pedro has found his horse."

Law roused himself. With his own hands he gently removed Bessie Belle's
saddle, bridle, and blanket, then he gave his orders.

"I'll take your horse, Ricardo, and you take--that fellow's. Get a
wagon and move him to Jonesville."

"And you?"

"I'm going to follow that man on the sorrel."

The dead man's saddle was left beside the body; then when the exchange
of mounts had been effected and all was ready, Law made a request that
amazed both father and son.

"If I'm not back by morning, I want you to bury my mare." His voice
broke; he turned away his face. "Bury her deep, Ricardo, so--the
coyotes can't dig her up; right here where she fell. I'll be back to
see that it's done right. Understand?"

"Bueno! I understand perfectly. She was a pretty horse. She was
your--bonita, eh? Well, you have a big heart, senor, as a brave man
should have. Everything shall be done as you wish; I give you my hand
on it." Ricardo reached down and gripped Law's palm. "We will name our
pasture for her, too, because it is plain you loved her dearly. So,
then, until to-morrow."

Law watched his two friends ride away, then he wiped his Winchester and
saw to his cinch. This done he raised Bessie Belle's head and kissed
the lip that had so often explored his palm for sugar. With a miserable
ache in his throat he mounted and rode off to pick up the trail of the
man on the sorrel pony.

Fortunately this was not difficult, for the tracks of a running horse
are plain in soft ground. Finding where his quarry had broken cover,
Law set out at a lope.

The fellow had ridden in a wide semicircle at first, then, finding he
was not pursued, he had slackened pace, and, in consequence, the signs
became more difficult to follow. They seemed to lead in the direction
of Las Palmas, which Dave judged must be fully twelve miles away, and
when they continued to maintain this course the Ranger became doubly
interested. Could it be, he asked himself, that his quarry would have
the audacity to ride to the Austin headquarters? If so, his
identification promised to become easy, for a man on a sorrel cow-pony
was more than likely to be observed. Perhaps he thought himself secure
and counted upon the assistance of some friend or confederate among the
Las Palmas ranch-hands in case of pursuit. That seemed not
unreason