He heated up some bread and a kettle of beans and cut a can of fruit, and when Hall had eaten Meshackatee took up the discussion exactly where he had let it drop. "There's always a way," he nodded impressively, "provided you've got the nerve. Them Texans are ranicky, I'll admit that from the start, and Isham has turned plumb bad. Always thought he was a blow-hard, a big bag of wind, but the scoundrel has turned out a killer. I'm nothing but a gunman, or that's what they call me, and I can't say I'm squeamish a bit. When them sheepmen come in I was in the fore-front of the battle--might have killed one or two of 'em myself. And furthermore, when they hired Paine and them Slash-knife boys to ride in and clean up on the Bassetts--I could stand for that stuff, too. It was rough, but they had a fighting chance. But this downright murdering, like shooting Old Henry and leaving Sharps out for the hogs--well, right there was where I quit. But I didn't quit quick enough--that Isham had gone bad, and he damned nigh got my skelp." He rumpled his hair thoughtfully and shook his head at the fire. "You never can tell," he said. "Did he attempt to kill you?" asked McIvor, but Meshackatee shrugged it away. "Never mind," he grumbled, "that's between him and me. But lemme give you a tip--if you meet up with Isham you go for your gun right now. But you won't meet nobody--that ain't the way they fight; the first thing you meet will be a forty-five explosive bullet--they're fighting from cover entirely. I've been down to Tonto talking with the sheriff of the county and a few other old _compadres_ of mine, and it's the consensus of opinion that Maverick Basin is going to be damned on-healthy. Especially for officers and such. At the same time, as I said, there's always a way----" "Well, what is that way?" broke in McIvor impatiently. "Are you thinking of going back?" "I might be," admitted Meshackatee, "but I heard a gun down here yesterday, and I thought mebbe it might be Isham. He's the _hombre_ I'm gunning for, to tell you the truth, and so I've been watching the trail. And in the meantime, while my time was idle on my hands, I've been fixing up some more of these." He picked up one of the cartridges upon which he had been working and McIvor examined it critically. A hole had been bored into the heart of the lead bullet and a smaller cartridge neatly imbedded. "One of them explosive bullets," boasted Meshackatee shamelessly; "I claim to have invented 'em, myself. A twenty-two blank, set exactly in the middle of it, and the minute she hits something--zingo! she blows up like a bomb. Maybe you saw how they worked when we were chowsing them sheep? Well, the Scarboroughs are shooting them at _men_." "I know that," nodded McIvor, "but you spoke of some plan." "Oh, sure," replied Meshackatee, "well, what I had in mind was to go back and try these on _them_." "And then?" "Well, take to the brush; out-Injun 'em if we can--I'll admit it's kinder resky."