"I bet that's the Christopher Sawyer!" Uncle Sid was pointing to the tangled mass of vegetation. "These are the first things I've seen that look as if they'd had enough to drink." Helen was looking in another direction. "How queer those cattle are acting." She was watching a bunch of cattle about three hundred yards away. They were clustered thickly, their heads pointed towards herself and Uncle Sid. In front of the herd, a huge bull was pawing the sand. There was a muffled bellowing and from beneath the nostrils of his low-hanging head, spurts of dust rose in the air. "Those critters do look hostile, an' there ain't no fence to get over an' not a gosh-hanged tree to climb." Uncle Sid spoke uneasily. Across the barranca, they caught sight of another cloud of dust, from which swung wildly gesticulating arms. At the same time, from one of the adobes, they saw a vaquero emerge. His arms too, were wildly waving. In response to his cries which they heard only faintly, two bunches of yapping gray fur swept across the white-rimmed ditches and rolled up the bank. There was evidently an unwonted excitement of which Helen and Uncle Sid were an important part. Then the cattle came to a conclusion and, with lowered heads and tails sticking upright, they charged straight for Uncle Sid and Helen. The horsemen, meanwhile had crossed the barranca, and the next instant, horses and riders with the yapping fur, had turned the vigorously charging cattle to an equally vigorous retreat. Winston sprang from his horse in front of Uncle Sid. His face was white with anger. "Where did you come from?--" he began. "From God's country, young man, and we got lost." Uncle Sid was unabashed. Winston's face broke into a smile; then he caught sight of Helen. "You ought to know better than this, Helen." "Better than what, young man?" "Better than to go walking around here. You see these cattle are more than half wild. They don't often see a footman, and when they have calves, they are dangerous. If you had been mounted, you could have ridden through the bunch and they wouldn't have noticed you." "Well; we shall have to walk back, apparently." Helen's smile was not wholly spontaneous. "To God's country? It's a long way." Ralph was smiling at Helen's chagrin. Helen laughed. "Perhaps you could show us the way?" "You would better go down to Pedro's ranch and wait. Our supply wagons will be along shortly, and they will take you to town." "Young man," Uncle Sid broke in, "you seem to know this country. Is that strip o' damp sand down there, the Christopher Sawyer?" "The what?" For a moment, Ralph's face was blank astonishment, then he burst into a hearty laugh. "Oh, the Sangre de Christo! Yes."