Now, the water of the Puerco is about as vile-smelling and oleaginous stuff as any one ever saw, tasted, or smelled; indeed, the offensiveness of the water suggested the name of the river--"Nasty." Especially in time of floods does it deserve its name. The water then is more like thin gruel of a yellowish red color, and smells to Heaven. Into this mess the conspirators slowly lowered the two officers of the law, regardless of their prayers, entreaties, threats, or curses, of which each of the two men poured out a liberal supply in tones to wake the dead. A turn of the rope about one of the bridge rods served to check the speed of their descent, and while Baldy Peters got over the railing and down on to the stone abutment, that he might the better see how far to lower the men, the rest held onto the ropes and let them down. Baldy, crouching low on the abutment, peered down into the darkness and gave orders for the work, so that when the two ropes were tied to a rod, each man was swinging in the water breast deep. He clambered back onto the bridge, and the four punchers hastened out into the darkness after the rest of the gang, who were waiting for them not far off. The next morning about daybreak, four horsemen rode out of the camp and headed for the New Mexico line, across which they felt themselves reasonably safe; for they well knew that the marshal would never follow and bring them back to relate in court the way they outwitted him and Tex. All they feared was that he would take a shot at them the first time he got sight of them, as he certainly would have done had he ever "met up with" either of the guilty four. The boys were "drifters," anyhow, as much at home in one place as another, and good hands were always in demand on the ranches in those days, so it mattered little where they brought up. As for the marshal and Tex, their first impression was that they were to be lynched; then they thought that they were to drown, which was even worse; finally, however, when they realized what the boys really meant to do, their rage knew no bounds. The marshal would almost have preferred to be hung, for he quickly foresaw that when they were rescued, the ridicule the affair would cause throughout the county would everlastingly kill his chances for any office. Had they been hung, or even drowned, they would have been heroes, even though dead ones; but this trick would turn a laugh against them as long as they lived.