hing fer awhile. He's been shot
through ther leg."

"What!"

"It's true, too, Wade. I told ye what'd happen when we went after them
Thompsons. It's war ter ther death 'twixt us, shore. Tom met old Jim
an' 'nuther feller over ther hill ter-day, an' ther fun commenced right.
They both opened fire on Tom, but he didn't budge a step till he'd
throwed old Jim flat o' his back, an' he'd a-throwed t'other feller,
too, ef it hadn't been fer that sneakin' Al, who slipped through ther
woods like a snake a-crawlin' on his belly, an' let in on him, an' shot
him through ther leg. Seein' he was shot an' bleedin' putty bad, Tom lit
out fer home, 'thout seein' what'd happened after the smoke o' battle
cleared away. Me an' the good gal, hyar, a-hearin' of ther shootin',
pitched out over ther hill with our Winchesters, jest ter git a little
o' ther fun while hit was a-goin' on, an' we seed Tom a-comin' an'
a-fightin' back, with his shot leg a-hangin' loose over the hoss. Me an'
Nory give a Comanche yell what they knowed, an' when them durn fellers
heered us they turned heels an' took out t'other way 'bout as fast as ye
ever seed anybody git over ther mountain in yer life."

Peter Judson told of these circumstances as unconcernedly as if it had
been play. It was real fun to him. The noise of battle suited him much
better than the quiet of peace. Turning to Wade, he asked, "What did ye
do with yer hoss?"

"Someone held me up and took him from me," Wade replied.

"Ye don't know these people yet, Wade," said Peter, after a moment of
silence. "Don't ye know that hit was Fred's pard what tuck yer hoss? An'
he's done spread ther news over ther whole kintry by now, an' long afore
ye got out o' ther woods. Ye needn't bother 'bout goin' over. Ther old
man'll be so wild when he hears o' this that he'll want ter kill every
feller he meets. Ther committees what sent them two boys out on that job
oughter have their own necks strung up ter a tree, that's shore. That's
what oughter happen ter them. Now, yer needn't worry, Wade. Ye'll git
yer hoss back all right. I'm shore o' that, an' ther shootin' irons,
too. Seems like hit ain't no use fer ye ter have any shootin' irons,
'cause ye never have used 'em, yet, have ye?"

"Doesn't look as though I have any great use for them."

"No, hit don't, Jack. But ye mout use 'em sometime. Better have 'em
along anyhow, when ye meet a Thompson, 'cause ye air shore ter need 'em
then. Now, Wade, I reckon ye hadn