That was all. The night passed quietly, the
men, alert to their tasks, each separated from the
other, riding stolidly into golden dawn. But not
till late, with the sun half-way to its zenith, and
then only because of safe distance from possible
detection, did they draw rein. Saddle-bags were
thrown off, though bridle and saddle were left on
in case of emergency, and the horses were turned
out on short tethers. The men risked a fire, since
they were in the shadow of a ridge, and when the
eoffee-pot was steaming seated themselves on the
ground, in a close circle. For the first time since
midnight one spoke. It was Johnson.

"We'll hold west of Lordsburg," he declared,
sweeping his eyes gloatingly over the herd.
"Francisco Espor and his gang over the line'll
weep when they see that bunch -- for joy!"

Jim leaned back upon one elbow. "What was
that rumpus last night," he inquired, "right after
we started?" Then he showed his thoughts. "I
mean, the horse."

Johnson swung his head around. For a moment
he appeared not to understand. Then suddenly
his eyes lost their good-humored twinkle
and grew hard.

"Lost one," he answered, abruptly. "The
horse stalled." He narrowed his eyes as he stared
vindictively at Pat. "I must take a day off, after
we get over the line," he snapped, "and break
that animal to saddle, bridle, spur, quirt, and
rope. He 'ain't never been broke, that horse, and
he's naturally mean!"

[[196]]

p195 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p196w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p197

v?