"I'm doin' me best to fix you up, Dago," said Sundown. "But you better go ahead and say them prayers--and you might put in a couple for Sinker what you shot. I reckon his slug cut the big vein and you got to go. Wisht I could do somethin' . . . to help . . . you stay . . . but mebby it's better that you cross over easy. Then the boys don't get you." The Mexican seemed to understand. He nodded as he lay gazing at the lean figure illumined by the dancing light of the open stove. "Si. You good hombre, si," he gasped. Sundown frowned. "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to glory with you. Sinker--what you shot--was me friend. I ought to kill you like a snake. But God A'mighty took the job off me hands. I reckon that makes me square with--with Sinker--and Him." Again Sundown brought water to the herder. Gently he raised his head and held the cup to his lips. Chance stood in the middle of the room strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with alert eyes. The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died down. The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to emphasize the ghastly picture--the barren, rough-boarded room, the rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless, as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day. The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway. He grew instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide eyes toward the south. Sundown nodded. "It's the boys," he said, as though speaking to himself. "I was hopin' he could die easy. I dunno." 'Sandro raised his hands and implored Sundown to save him from the riders. Sundown stepped to the window. He saw the flash of spurs and bits as a group of the Concho boys swept down the road. One of them was leading a riderless horse. In a flash he realized that they had found the herder's horse and had tracked 'Sandro to the water-hole. He backed away from the window and reaching down took the Mexican's gun from its holster. "'T ain't what I figured on," he muttered. "They's me friends, but this is me ranch." With a rush and a slither of hoofs in the loose sand the Concho riders, headed by Shoop, swung up to the gate and dismounted. Sundown stepped to the doorway, Chance beside him. Shoop glanced quickly at the silent figure. Then his gaze drifted to the ground. "'Mornin', Sun! Seen anybody 'round here this mornin'?" "Mornin', fellas. Nope. Just me and Chance." The men hesitated, eyeing Sundown suspiciously. Corliss stepped toward the ranch-house. "Guess we'll look in," he said, and stepped past Shoop. Sundown had closed the door of the bedroom. He was at a loss to prevent the men entering the house, but once within the house he determined that they should not enter the bedroom.