he ranch to
pieces. At that we was helpin' Pat all we could to find them bandits.
But when Stewart got there he made a difference. Pat was nasty before,
but seein' Stewart made him wuss. I reckon Gene to Pat is the same as
red to a Greaser bull. Anyway, when the sheriff set fire to an old adobe
hut Stewart called him an' called him hard. Pat Hawe hed six fellers
with him, an' from all appearances bandit-huntin' was some fiesta. There
was a row, an 'it looked bad fer a little. But Gene was cool, an' he
controlled the boys. Then Pat an' his tough de-pooties went on huntin'.
That huntin', Miss Majesty, petered out into what was only a farce. I
reckon Pat could hev kept on foolin' me an' the boys, but as soon as
Stewart showed up on the scene--wal, either Pat got to blunderin' or
else we-all shed our blinders. Anyway, the facts stood plain. Pat
Hawe wasn't lookin' hard fer any bandits; he wasn't daid set huntin'
anythin', unless it was trouble fer Stewart. Finally, when Pat's men
made fer our storehouse, where we keep ammunition, grub, liquors, an'
sich, then Gene called a halt. An' he ordered Pat Hawe off the ranch. It
was hyar Hawe an' Stewart locked horns.

"An' hyar the truth come out. There was a gang of bandits hid
somewheres, an' at fust Pat Hawe hed been powerful active an' earnest in
his huntin'. But sudden-like he'd fetched a pecooliar change of heart.
He had been some flustered with Stewart's eyes a-pryin' into his moves,
an' then, mebbe to hide somethin', mebbe jest nat'rul, he got mad.
He hollered law. He pulled down off the shelf his old stock grudge
on Stewart, accusin' him over again of that Greaser murder last fall.
Stewart made him look like a fool--showed him up as bein' scared of the
bandits or hevin' some reason fer slopin' off the trail. Anyway, the row
started all right, an' but fer Nels it might hev amounted to a fight.
In the thick of it, when Stewart was drivin' Pat an' his crowd off the
place, one of them de-pooties lost his head an' went fer his gun. Nels
throwed his gun an' crippled the feller's arm. Monty jumped then an'
throwed two forty-fives, an' fer a second or so it looked ticklish. But
the bandit-hunters crawled, an' then lit out."

Stillwell paused in the rapid delivery of his narrative; he still
retained Madeline's hand, as if by that he might comfort her.

"After Pat left we put our haids together," began the old cattleman,
with a long respiration. "We rounded up a lad who hed seen a