descent
was as rough and difficult as the ascent had been.

Leaving Cress, who was ill, and Manuel, who was weak from loss of
blood, to hold the summit, the rest of us descended to fetch up our
horses, and a hard hour's job we had of it, for we packed on our backs
the load of the dead pack horse and those of his mates the last half of
the ascent, rather than risk losing another animal.

Upon our return we found Manuel gloating over three trophies--a hat
shot through the side by a ball that had evidently "creased" the
wearer's head, an old Spanish spur and a gun scabbard--which he seemed
to find salve for the burning wound in his side.

Beneath us to the north lay Musquiz, in plain sight, a scant six miles
distance. In the clear dry air of the hills, it looked so near that a
good running jump might land one in the plaza, and yet none of us
expected we all should enter it again. The odds were against it, for
below us lay three miles of hill trail any step down which might land
us in a worse ambush than the last and we never imagined the enemy
would fail to engage us again. But the descent had to be made, and
down it we started, Cress and Manuel bringing up the rear with the
horses, the rest of us scouting ahead, dodging from rock to tree,
advancing slowly, expecting a volley, but receiving none.

For a mile the band followed the trail, and we followed their fresh
tracks; then they left the trail and turned west through the timber.
However, we never abated our watchfulness until well out of the hills
and near the outskirts of the town, which we reached shortly after
noon. There, breakfasting generously if not comfortably with Don Abran
and his gamecocks, I got news that made me less regretful of my failure
to obtain the Santa Rosa Ranch: one of its two Scotch purchasers had
been killed two days before my return, in attempting to repel a raid on
his camp by Nicanor Rascon!

With Cress too ill to travel, the next morning I left Crawford to care
for him, bade farewell to good old Don Abran, and started for Lampasos
with Thornton and Curly.

We nooned at Santa Cruz, a big sheep ranch midway between Musquiz and
Progreso, leaving there about two o'clock. An hour later, we heard
behind us a clatter of racing hoofs, and presently were overtaken by a
hatless Mexican, riding bareback at top speed, who told us that shortly
after our departure the Lipans had raided Santa Cruz, and that of its
twelve inhabitants, men, wome