“Come on, McAllister!” shouted another; “we'll give 'em blazes!” In response the straining broncho suddenly stiffened, bunched and slid on its haunches, wheeled and retraced its course. The rear cloud suddenly scattered into many smaller ones and all swept off to the east. The rescuing band overtook them and, several hours later, when seated around a table in Tom Lee's saloon, Muddy Wells, a count was taken of them, which was pleasing in its facts. “We was huntin' coyotes when we saw yu,” said a smiling puncher who was known as Salvation Carroll chiefly because he wasn't. “Yep! They've been stalkin' Tom's chickens,” supplied Waffles, the champion poker player of the outfit. Tom Lee's chickens could whip anything of their kind for miles around and were reverenced accordingly. “Sho! Is that so?” Asked Frenchy with mild incredulity, such a state of affairs being deplorable. “She shore is!” answered Tex Le Blanc, and then, as an afterthought, he added, “Where'd yu hit th' War-whoops?” “'Bout four hours back. This here's th' second time I've headed for this place--last time they chased me to Las Cruces.” “That so?” Asked Bigfoot Baker, a giant. “Ain't they allus interferin', now? Anyhow, they're better'n coyotes.” “They was purty well heeled,” suggested Tex, glancing at a bunch of repeating Winchesters of late model which lay stacked in a corner. “Charley here said he thought they was from th' way yore cayuse looked, didn't yu, Charley?” Charley nodded and filled his pipe. “'Pears like a feller can't amble around much nowadays without havin' to fight,” grumbled Lefty Allen, who usually went out of his way hunting up trouble. “We're goin' to th' Hills as soon as our cookie turns up,” volunteered Tenspot Davis, looking inquiringly at Frenchy. “Heard any more news?” “Nope. Same old story--lots of gold. Shucks, I've bit on so many of them rumors that they don't feaze me no more. One man who don't know nothin' about prospectin' goes an' stumbles over a fortune an' those who know it from A to Izzard goes 'round pullin' in their belts.” “We don't pull in no belts--we knows just where to look, don't we, Tenspot?” Remarked Tex, looking very wise. “Ya-as we do,” answered Tenspot, “if yu hasn't dreamed about it, we do.” “Yu wait; I wasn't dreamin', none whatever,” assured Tex. “I saw it!” “Ya-as, I saw it too onct,” replied Frenchy with sarcasm. “Went and lugged fifty pound of it all th' way to th' assay office--took me two days! an' that there four-eyed cuss looks at it and snickers. Then he takes me by di' arm an' leads me to th' window. 'See that pile, my friend? That's all like yourn,' sez he. 'It's worth about one simoleon a ton at th' coast. They use it for ballast.'” “Aw! But this what I saw was gold!” exploded Tex. “So was mine, for a while!” laughed Frenchy, nodding to the bartender for another round.