in. Weeth that tr-rain was thee
tr-roops. We would be better pr-rotect."

Hank was undecided whether he should turn his back on the visitor and
walk away, or grab him by the collar and the slack of his trousers and
throw him from the fire, when habitual cunning made him grunt his
endorsement of the other's remarks. He never was above acquiring what
information he could get, no matter how trivial it might be.

"Yeah," he replied, passing the plug to his guest. "Fill yer pipe, or
make a cigarette," he invited. "Them danged settlements air all right
fer a change, but this hyar is a hull lot better; an' th' mountings air
better'n this. As fer th' dragoons with th' fust train, it's plumb
welcome to 'em. Thar more trouble than thar worth; an' they allus will
be till they larn ter fight Injuns in th' Injun way. Th' idear o' usin'
th' right hand fer a sword an' th' left fer a pistol! I'd ruther be with
a passel o' mounting boys, fur's fightin' Injuns air consarned. Anyhow,
jest when they git whar they're needed most, down on th' edge o' th'
Kiowa an' Comanche country, th' danged dragoons has ter stop."

"But senor; they must not tr-read on Mexican soil," protested Pedro.

Hank grinned and choked down the retort he was about to make, nodding
his head instead. "Shore; that's th' trouble. Now, if that danged
Governor o' yourn would meet th' train at Cimarron Crossin' an' go th'
rest o' th' way with it, thar'd be some sense ter troop escorts. Thar
ain't a sojer along th' worst stretch o' th' whole trail. I'll bet ye we
won't see hide ner hair o' 'em this side o' Cold Spring, when th' danger
from raidin' Injuns is 'most over."

Pedro spread his hands helplessly. "That ees but too tr-rue, senor.
Theese time we weel not see thee br-rave tr-roops of Mexico befor-re we
r-reach thee Wagon Mound."

"Thar!" triumphantly exclaimed Hank. "What did I tell ye? They used ter
git as fur as Cold Spring, anyhow; but now thar waitin' at th' Wagon
Mound. Next thing we know they'll be waitin' at San Miguel fer ter see
us safe th' last fifty miles through th' settlements!"

"Eet ees thee Apaches that ar-re to blame theese time," explained Pedro
with oily smoothness. "They ar-re ver' bad theese year along thee Rio
Gr-rande del Norte. Ver' bad!"

"Yeah," grunted Hank, puffing reflectively on his pipe. "Mexico an'
Texas both claim all that country east o' th' Grande, but th' Apaches
shore own it, an' run it ter suit theirselves. Bad Injuns, they