"Some don't, though," replied the man. "Most of 'em that are
going West in a covered wagon seem to think corn in the field is
public property. A fellow camped right here one afternoon last
fall. He was out of feed, and took a grain sack on one arm and a
big Winchester rifle on the other, and went over to old Brown's
cornfield. He took the gun along not to shoot anybody, but to
sort of intimidate Brown if he should catch him. Suddenly he saw
an old fellow coming towards him carrying a gun about a foot
longer than his own. The young fellow wilted right down on the
ground and never moved. He happened to go down on a big prickly
cactus, but he never stirred, cactus or no cactus. He thought
Brown had caught him, and that he was done for. The old man kept
coming nearer and nearer. He was almost to him. The young fellow
concluded to make a brave fight. So he jumped up and yelled. The
old man dropped his gun and ran like a scared wolf. Then the
young fellow noticed that the other also had a sack in which he
had been gathering corn. He called him back, they saw that they
were both thieves, shook hands, and went ahead and robbed old
Brown together."

The man got up to go. "Well, good-night, boys," he said.
"Rest as hard as you can tomorrow. You'll strike into the Sand
Hills at about nine o'clock Monday morning. Take three days'
feed, and every drop of water you can carry; and it you waste any
of it washing your hands you're bigger fools than I think you
are."



VII: THROUGH THE SAND HILLS