mysterious. When he's a safe eighty feet away, he jumps in the air,
cracks his heels together, hurls a frightful curse at Hotspur, an'
turns an' walks off a heap rapid. Hotspur can't read them signs at
all; an' to be frank, no more can I. Prince Hal never looks back; he
surges straight ahead, climbs the hill on the other side, an' is
lost in the oak bushes.

"Hotspur watches him out of sight, gets a drink in the Caliente, an'
then climbs the hillside to where I'm camped, to decide about me. Of
course, Hotspur an' I arrives at a treaty of peace by the bacon-rind
route, an' things ag'in quiets down on the Caliente.

"It's next mornin' about fourth drink time, an' I'm overhaulin' a
saddle an' makin' up some beliefs on several subjects of interest,
when I observes Hotspur's face wearin' a onusual an' highly hang-dog
expression. An' I can't see no cause. I sweeps the scenery with my
eye, but I notes nothin'. An' yet it's as evident as a club flush
that Hotspur's scared to a standstill. He ain't sayin nothin', but
that's because he thinks he'll save his breath to groan with when
dyin'. It's a fact, son; I couldn't see nor hear a thing, an' yet
that Hotspur bull stands thar fully aware, somehow, that thar's a
warrant out for him.

"At last I'm made posted of impendin' events. Across the wide
Caliente comes a faint but f'rocious war song. I glance over that a-
way, an' thar through the oak bresh comes Prince Hal. An' although
he's a mile off, he's p'intin' straight for this yere invader,
Hotspur. At first I thinks Prince Hal's alone, an' I'm marvellin'
whatever he reckons he's goin' to a'complish by this return. But
jest then I gets a glimmer, far to Prince Hal's r'ar, of that