"Much obliged, Wallace, but there's only four of `em, an' we'd
rather get `em ourselves-Johnny'ud feel better," replied Buck,
throwing his saddle on the horse that was led up to him.

"How's yore cartridges-got plenty?" Persisted Wallace.

"Two hundred apiece," responded Buck, springing into his saddle and
riding off. "So long," he called.

"So long, an' plug blazes out of them," shouted Wallace as the dust
swept over him.

At five in the afternoon they forded the Black River at a point
where it crossed the state line from New Mexico, and at dusk camped at
the base of the Guadalupe Mountains. At daybreak they took up the
chase, grim and merciless, and shortly afterward they passed the
smoldering remains of a camp fire, showing that the pursued had been
in a great hurry, for it should have been put out and masked. At noon
they left the mountains to the rear and sighted the Barred Horeshoe,
which they approached.

The owner of the ranch saw them coming, and from their appearance
surmised that something was wrong.

"What is it?" He shouted. "Rustlers?"

"Nope. Murderers. I wants to swap cayuses quick," answered Buck.

"There they are. Th' boys just brought `em in. Anything else I can
let yu have?"