ng their
horses on Mr. Merkel's land.

However, there was a fierce rally against them on the part of the
cowboys and they were driven back.

This was not without desperate work, however, and several on each side
suffered minor injuries. The trouble was that the cowboys held their
enemies too lightly. It was easy, and perhaps natural, for them to
despise the sheep herders.

But, after all, these were men, and rough and ready men at that. They
had something to fight for--their lives and their charges, and to lose
one was to endanger the other. So, for a time it looked, as Bud said
afterward, "like touch and go," so near was the tide of battle to
turning against the cowboys.

Both sides were now pretty well exhausted, but the disadvantage of
having to cross the stream still hampered the Greasers. They must have
felt this, for after another consultation among themselves something
new and unexpected happened.

A lone rider was seen to separate himself from the hated band on the
Mexican side of the creek, and he slowly approached the ford.

"Watch him!" cried Billee, who had picked up his hat with a hole in the
brim.

"He's up to some trick!" declared Bud.

"Shouldn't wonder, son," agreed Billee.

A moment later they saw what the "trick" was, if such it could be
called. From under his coat the man produced a white flag and waved it
vigorously toward the boy ranchers and their friends.

"A truce!" cried Bud. "Guess they've had enough!"

CHAPTER XXI

A LEGAL CONTEST

Holding the flag of truce above his head with both hands, the better to
indicate that he was unarmed, the man, a bearded Mexican to all
appearances, rode his horse half way across the stream. He was then
within easy talking distance of the cowboys and Old Billee called:

"That's far enough, Greaser! Stay right where you are and speak your
little piece. Keep him covered, boys," he went on in a low voice to
those around him.

"Oh, he's covered all right," replied Bud. And, indeed, half a dozen
guns were trained, more or less conspicuously, on the bearer of the
flag of truce.

"Well, say what you've got to say," ordered Billee grimly.

"_Senors_, we have had enough of fight--for the time," came from the
herald.

And at the sound of his voice the boy ranchers, with one accord,
exclaimed:

"Del Pinzo!"

"At your service, _senors_," came the mocking retort, and Del Pinzo,
for he it was, smiled, showing his white teeth through