a long talk with the boss, and the result was that the whole
outfit was instructed to arm up with a pick or a shovel apiece,
and to get set for Texas Pete's. We got there a little after
noon, turned the old boy out--without firearms--and then began to
dig at a place Tim told us to, near that grave of Texas Pete's.
In three hours we had the finest water-hole developed you ever
want to see. Then the boss stuck up a sign that said:

PUBLIC WATER-HOLE. WATER, FREE.

"Now you old skin," says he to Texas Pete, "charge all you want
to on your own property. But if I ever hear of your layin' claim
to this other hole, I'll shore make you hard to catch."

Then we rode off home. You see, when Gentleman Tim inspected
that grave, he noted indications of water; and it struck him that
runnin' the old renegade out of business was a neater way of
gettin' even than merely killin' him.


Somebody threw a fresh mesquite on the fire. The flames leaped
up again, showing a thin trickle of water running down the other
side of the cave. The steady downpour again made itself
prominent through the re-established silence.

"What did Texas Pete do after that?" asked the Cattleman.

"Texas Pete?" chuckled Windy Bill. "Well, he put in a heap of
his spare time lettin' Tim alone."