"Old Mac laughs, and he says to me: 'Pumpin' lead into the best ranch-
boss in West Texas don't seem to me good business policy. I don't know
where I could get as good a one. It's the son-in-law idea, Webb, that
makes me admire for to use you as a target. You ain't my idea for a
member of the family. But I can use you on the Nopalito if you'll keep
outside of a radius with the ranch-house in the middle of it. You go
upstairs and lay down on a cot, and when you get some sleep we'll talk
it over.'"

Baldy Woods pulled down his hat, and uncurled his leg from his saddle-
horn. Webb shortened his rein, and his pony danced, anxious to be off.
The two men shook hands with Western ceremony.

"/Adios/, Baldy," said Webb, "I'm glad I seen you and had this talk."

With a pounding rush that sounded like the rise of a covey of quail,
the riders sped away toward different points of the compass. A hundred
yards on his route Baldy reined in on the top of a bare knoll, and
emitted a yell. He swayed on his horse; had he been on foot, the earth
would have risen and conquered him; but in the saddle he was a master
of equilibrium, and laughed at whisky, and despised the centre of
gravity.

Webb turned in his saddle at the signal.

"If I was you," came Baldy's strident and perverting tones, "I'd be
king!"

At eight o'clock on the following morning Bud Turner rolled from his