"And I thought you were my friend, Pringle. I trusted you!" he said
with ominous quietness. "I'll make a note of it. I have a good memory,
Pringle--and good friends. Give me some water, someone. I feel sick."

Espalin brought a canteen.

"Take your time, Chris," said Lisner. "Tell us when you feel able to
go."

"I'll be all right after a little. Say, boys, it was the queerest
feeling--coming to, I mean. I could almost hear your voices, first.
Then I heard them a long ways off but I couldn't make any sense to the
words. Here; let me lean my back up against this rock and sit quiet
for a while. Then we'll go. I'm giddy yet."

"I've got it!" announced Nueces a moment later. "Barela, he's
hankering to be sheriff--that's the trouble. He wanted to take Chris
himself, to help things along. That would be quite a feather in any
man's hat--done fair. And the sheriff, natural enough, he don't want
nothing of the kind."

"That's it," said Anastacio, amusement in his eyes. "I knew you were a
good gunman, Nueces, but I never suspected you of brains before."

"What's the matter with that guess?" said Nueces sulkily. "Kid, you're
always ridin' me. Don't you try to use any spurs!"

"I'm in on that," said Pringle, rising brightly. "That's my happy
chance to join in this lovin' conversation. Speaking about gunmen, I'm