thoughtful, if this yere Mexican, after we-alls is that patient an'
liberal with him, abuses our confidences an' escapes, we leaves it a
lone-hand play to you. My eyes is gettin' some old an' off, any way;
an' besides, if we three takes to bangin' away simooltaneous, in the
ardor of competition some of us might shoot the pony. So if this
yere captive runs--which he looks tame, an' I don't expect none he
will--we leaves the detainin' of him, Jack, to you entire."

"In spite of Enright's faith it shore turns out this Mexican is
ornery enough, where the trail skirts the river, to wheel sudden an'
go plungin' across. But Jack gets him in midstream. As he goes over
the bronco's shoulder, hat first, he swings on the bridle long
enough with his dyin' hand to turn the pony so it comes out ag'in on
our side.

"Which I'm glad he lives s'fficient to head that hoss our way,' says
jack. "It saves splashin' across after him an' wettin' your leggins
a lot."

"It's that night in camp when jack brings up what Enright says about
the time the Mexicans downs a pris'ner, an' tharby fixes his views
of 'em.

"'It's a long trail back,' says Enright,' an' I don't like this yarn
enough to find myse'f relatin' it to any excessive degrees. It draws
the cinch some tight an' painful, an' I don't teach my mind to dwell
on it no more'n is necessary.

"'This is all when I'm a boy; mebby I ain't twenty years yet. It's
durin' the Mexican war. I gets a stack of white chips an' stands in