John Cotton was dispatched after Deweese. Conversation meanwhile became polite and changed to other subjects. Those of us at work baling hides went ahead as if nothing unusual was on the tapis. The visitors were all armed, which was nothing unusual, for the wearing of six-shooters was as common as the wearing of boots. During the interim, several level-headed visitors took Henry Annear to one side, evidently to reason with him and urge an apology, for they could readily see that Uncle Lance was justly offended. But it seemed that Annear would listen to no one, and while they were yet conversing among themselves, John Cotton and our foreman galloped around the bend of the river and rode up to the yard. No doubt Cotton had explained the situation, but as they dismounted Uncle Lance stepped between his foreman and Annear, saying:— “June, Henry, here, questions the honesty of your list of strays killed, and insists on our cutting the bales for his inspection.” Turning to Annear, Uncle Lance inquired, “Do you still insist on opening the bales?” “Yes, sir, I do.” Deweese stepped to one side of his employer, saying to Annear: “You offer to cut a bale here to-day, and I’ll cut your heart out. Behind my back, you questioned my word. Question it to my face, you dirty sneak.” Annear sprang backward and to one side, drawing a six-shooter in the movement, while June was equally active. Like a flash, two shots rang out. Following the reports, Henry turned halfway round, while Deweese staggered a step backward. Taking advantage of the instant, Uncle Lance sprang like a panther on to June and bore him to the ground, while the visitors fell on Annear and disarmed him in a flash. They were dragged struggling farther apart, and after some semblance of sanity had returned, we stripped our foreman and found an ugly flesh wound crossing his side under the armpit, the bullet having been deflected by a rib. Annear had fared worse, and was spitting blood freely, and the marks of exit and entrance of the bullet indicated that the point of one lung had been slightly chipped. “I suppose this outcome is what you might call the _amende honorable_” smilingly said George Nathan, one of the visitors, later to Uncle Lance. “I always knew there was a little bad blood existing between the boys, but I had no idea that it would flash in the pan so suddenly or I’d have stayed at home. Shooting always lets me out. But the question now is, How are we going to get our man home?”