together, and the owner of one explained:

"I never was frightened before, but just think! How terrible it would
be to meet a really wild lion! Poor Bill! I'm so glad you came with
me!"

O'Donnell was sitting on the ranch gallery.

"Hello, Rip!" he shouted--"that you?"

"He rode in with me," said Josefa. "I lost my way and was late."

"Much obliged," called the cattle king. "Stop over, Rip, and ride to
camp in the morning."

But Givens would not. He would push on to camp. There was a bunch of
steers to start off on the trail at daybreak. He said good-night, and
trotted away.

An hour later, when the lights were out, Josefa, in her night-robe,
came to her door and called to the king in his own room across the
brick-paved hallway:

"Say, pop, you know that old Mexican lion they call the 'Gotch-eared
Devil'--the one that killed Gonzales, Mr. Martin's sheep herder, and
about fifty calves on the Salado range? Well, I settled his hash this
afternoon over at the White Horse Crossing. Put two balls in his head
with my .38 while he was on the jump. I knew him by the slice gone
from his left ear that old Gonzales cut off with his machete. You
couldn't have made a better shot yourself, daddy."