his achievements to state that the holding up of the Fredericksburg
mail was not perpetrated by way of an exploit. As the lion while in
the pursuit of prey commensurate to his prowess might set a frivolous
foot upon a casual rabbit in his path, so Hondo Bill and his gang had
swooped sportively upon the pacific transport of Meinherr Fritz.

The real work of their sinister night ride was over. Fritz and his
mail bag and his mules came as gentle relaxation, grateful after the
arduous duties of their profession. Twenty miles to the southeast
stood a train with a killed engine, hysterical passengers and a looted
express and mail car. That represented the serious occupation of Hondo
Bill and his gang. With a fairly rich prize of currency and silver the
robbers were making a wide detour to the west through the less
populous country, intending to seek safety in Mexico by means of some
fordable spot on the Rio Grande. The booty from the train had melted
the desperate bushrangers to jovial and happy skylarkers.

Trembling with outraged dignity and no little personal apprehension,
Fritz climbed out to the road after replacing his suddenly removed
spectacles. The band had dismounted and were singing, capering, and
whooping, thus expressing their satisfied delight in the life of a
jolly outlaw. Rattlesnake Rogers, who stood at the heads of the mules,
jerked a little too vigorously at the rein of the tender-mouthed
Donder, who reared and emitted a loud, protesting snort of pain.
Instantly Fritz, with a scream of anger, flew at the bulky Rogers and
began to assiduously pummel that surprised freebooter with his fists.

"Villain!" shouted Fritz, "dog, bigstiff! Dot mule he has a soreness
by his mouth. I vill knock off your shoulders mit your head--
robbermans!"