think about me! There's other places besides this."

Breslin raised his eye from Foy's face and regarded Pringle without
heat--a steady, contemplative look, as of one who studies some strange
and interesting animal. Then he waved his hand down the pass, where
certain of the departing posse, were bringing the saddle horses in
obedience to the sheriff's instructions.

"They'll carry a nice report of you," observed Breslin quietly. "What
do you suppose that little girl will think?"

A flicker of red came to Pringle's hard brown face. Even the scorn of
Espalin and Creagan had left him unabashed, but now he winced visibly;
and, for once, he had no reply to make.

Foy gasped, struggled to a sitting position, aided by his oddly
assorted ministrants, gazed round in a dazed condition and lapsed back
into unconsciousness.

"I'll take my dyin' oath it ain't the cut that ails him," said the
ranger, tucking a coat under Foy's blood-stained head. "That must have
been a horrible jolt on his jaw, Pringle. You're no kind of a man at
all--no part of a man. You're a shameless, black-hearted traitor; but
I got to hand it to you as a slugger. Two knock-outs in one day--and
such men as them! I don't understand it."

"He 'most keel Applegate," said the Mexican.

"Aw, it's easy!" said Pringle eagerly. "There ain't one man in a
thousand knows how to fight. It ain't cussin' and gritting your teeth,