"Aw, it's easy!" said Pringle eagerly. "There ain't one man in a thousand knows how to fight. It ain't cussin' and gritting your teeth, and swellin' up your biceps and clenching your fists up tight that does the trick. You want to hit like there wasn't anybody there. I'll show you sometime." He paused inquiringly, as if to book any acceptance of this kindly offer. No such engagements being made, Pringle continued: "Supposin' you was throwin' a baseball and your hand struck a man accidentally; you'd hurt him every time--only you'd break your arm that way. That ain't the way to strike. I'll show you." "That wasn't no olive branch I was holdin' out," stated Nueces River. "You'll show me nothin'--turncoat!" "It helps a lot, too, when the man you hit is not expecting it," suggested Anastacio smoothly. "You might show me sometime--when I'm looking for it." "Now what's biting you?" demanded Pringle testily. "What did you expect me to do--send 'em a note by registered mail?" "I'm not speaking about Applegate. That was all right. I am speaking about your friend." "Here; Kit's coming to life again," said Lisner. Kitty Foy rolled over; they propped him up; he looked round rather wildly from one to the other. His face cleared. His eye fell upon Pringle, where it rested with a steady intentness. When he spoke, at last, he ignored the others entirely. "And I thought you were my friend, Pringle. I trusted you!" he said with ominous quietness. "I'll make a note of it. I have a good memory, Pringle--and good friends. Give me some water, someone. I feel sick." Espalin brought a canteen. "Take your time, Chris," said Lisner. "Tell us when you feel able to go." "I'll be all right after a little. Say, boys, it was the queerest feeling--coming to, I mean. I could almost hear your voices, first. Then I heard them a long ways off but I couldn't make any sense to the words. Here; let me lean my back up against this rock and sit quiet for a while. Then we'll go. I'm giddy yet." "I've got it!" announced Nueces a moment later. "Barela, he's hankering to be sheriff--that's the trouble. He wanted to take Chris himself, to help things along. That would be quite a feather in any man's hat--done fair. And the sheriff, natural enough, he don't want nothing of the kind." "That's it," said Anastacio, amusement in his eyes. "I knew you were a good gunman, Nueces, but I never suspected you of brains before." "What's the matter with that guess?" said Nueces sulkily. "Kid, you're always ridin' me. Don't you try to use any spurs!" "I'm in on that," said Pringle, rising brightly. "That's my happy chance to join in this lovin' conversation. Speaking about gunmen, I'm a beaut! See that hawk screechin' around up there? Well, watch!"