huts were surrounded by other scraggly sticks, driven into the
ground and held upright by wires which were stretched out to them from
occasional cottonwoods.

Back of them, Ysleta was lost to sight behind a rising grade of yellow
sand, dotted by clumps of chaparral and cactus. Across the barranca,
over the tops of the highest cottonwoods, the rolling mesa stretched as
barren and forbidding as that on which they were standing.

"I bet that's the Christopher Sawyer!" Uncle Sid was pointing to the
tangled mass of vegetation. "These are the first things I've seen that
look as if they'd had enough to drink."

Helen was looking in another direction.

"How queer those cattle are acting."

She was watching a bunch of cattle about three hundred yards away. They
were clustered thickly, their heads pointed towards herself and Uncle
Sid. In front of the herd, a huge bull was pawing the sand. There was a
muffled bellowing and from beneath the nostrils of his low-hanging head,
spurts of dust rose in the air.

"Those critters do look hostile, an' there ain't no fence to get over
an' not a gosh-hanged tree to climb." Uncle Sid spoke uneasily.

Across the barranca, they caught sight of another cloud of dust, from
which swung wildly gesticulating arms. At the same time, from one of the
adobes, they saw a vaquero emerge. His arms too, were wildly waving. In
response to his cries which they heard only faintly, two bunches of
yapping gray fur swept across the white-rimmed ditches and rolled up the
bank.

There was evidently an unwonted excitement of which Helen and Uncle Sid
were an important part. Then the cattle came to a conclusion and, with
lowered heads and tails sticking upright, they charged straight for
Uncle Sid and Helen.

The horsemen, meanwhile had crossed the barranca, and the next instant,
horses and riders with the yapping fur, had turned the vigorously
charging cattle to an equally vigorous retreat.

Winston sprang from his horse in front of Uncle Sid. His face was white
with anger.

"Where did you come from?--" he began.

"From God's country, young man, and we got lost." Uncle Sid was
unabashed. Winston's face broke into a smile; then he caught sight of
Helen.

"You ought to know better than this, Helen."

"Better than what, young man?"

"Better than to go walking around here. You see these cattle are more
than half wild. They don't often see a footman, and when they have
calves, they are dangerous. If