still chaotic flap-jacks. The quirt left a narrow streak across the
batter. Sam looked up quickly.

"Doan you done do dat!" he said, with indignation.

He looked upon the turkey-like Jose for a heavy moment, and then turned
back to the cooking. In rescuing an unstable coffee-pot a moment later,
he accidentally jostled against Jose's leg. Jose promptly and fiercely
kicked the whole outfit into space. The frying-pan crowned a sage-brush;
the coffee-pot rolled into a hollow, where it spouted coffee-grounds and
water in a diminishing stream; the kettle rolled gently on its side;
flap-jacks distributed themselves impartially and moistly; and, worst of
all, the fire was drowned out altogether.

Black Sam began stiffly to arise. The next instant he sank back with a
gurgle in his throat and a knife thrust in his side.

The murderer stood looking down at his victim. The other Mexicans
stared. The cowboy jumped up from the tongue of the wagon, drew his
weapon from the holster at his side, took deliberate aim, and fired
twice. Then he turned and began to run toward Alfred on the hill.

A cowboy cannot run so very rapidly. He carries such a quantity of
dunnage below in the shape of high boots, spurs, chaps, and
cartridge-belts that his gait is a waddling single-foot. Still, Tom
managed to get across the little stony ravine before the Mexicans
recovered from their surprise and became disentangled from their
ponchos. Then he glanced over his shoulder. He saw that some of the
vaqueros were running toward the arroya, that some were busily
unhobbling the mules, and that one or two had kneeled and were preparing
to shoot. At the sight of these last, he began to jump from side to side
as he ran. This decreased his speed. Half-way up the hill he was met by
Alfred on his way to get in the game, whatever it might prove to be. The
little man reached over and grasped Tom's hand. Tom braced his foot
against the stirrup, and in an instant was astride behind the saddle.
Alfred turned up the hill again, and without a word began applying his
quirt vigorously to the wiry shoulders of his horse. At the top of the
hill, as they passed the grazing ponies, Tom turned and emptied the
remaining four chambers of his revolver into the herd. Two ponies fell
kicking; the rest scattered in every direction. Alfred grunted
approvingly, for this made pursuit more difficult, and so gained them a
little more time.

Now both Alfred and Tom knew well enough tha