ridges in his belt were two whose lead was deeply dented by his
teeth as he chewed upon them in the vain hope of moistening his lips.

He was seated on a boulder between two dwarf live-oaks and his big
forty-five revolver lay beside him, with one empty shell. The
bullet-hole was fairly between his eyes, all powder-marked.

And so they knew just how he died; and young Billy Breckenbridge, who
came over into no-man's-land a day or two later, was able to piece out
the story by backtracking along that trail through the sands; able to
read those signs from the foot of the Dragoons on across the valley;
and able also--because he had seen that letter--to realize the torture
of memories which had come along with the torture of thirst to goad
John Ringo on to self-destruction.

In this manner it came about that the outlaws of Cochise County lost
their leader; and now that the man of brains was gone it became
possible for events to shape up, as they did soon afterward, toward
the big Earp-Clanton gun-fight.

The old-timers are unanimous in saying that had John Ringo been alive
that battle wherein the leaders of the Earp faction slew several of
the biggest desperadoes would never have taken place as it did. The
forces would have been differently disposed than they were on that
bloody morning when Billy Clanton and the McLowery boys died in
Tombstone's street by the O.K. corral; the chances are the victory
would have gone the other way. To this day they tell how Ringo's
passing was the beginning of the end; how Curly Bill vanished soon
afterward; how the stage-robbers and rustlers became disorganized and
were no longer any match for the law-and-order faction.

And when the old-timers, who witnessed these wild doings, recount the
history of the wind-up, laying the cause as has been stated, they give
the credit to the man whom they believe entitled to it; which brings
us back to Buckskin Frank.

On that blazing day when John Ringo rode out into no-man's-land
Buckskin Frank was away from Tombstone. And this time there were more
urgent reasons for his departure from the camp than the mere seeking
after plunder. He was, as has been said, a bad man; a bad man of the
type who can kill from in front but relishes best that opportunity
which offers the back of his enemy as a target.

During the long period while the outlaws were swaggering down
Tombstone's streets, defying the leaders of the law-and-order
movement, the two-gun man ma