“Well, Pinhead,” said Billy Magee, “she’s done. If you an’ me can hold out an’ keep our skins from being perforated they’s goin’ to be some truth in poetry.” The Mexicans and Sweeny did not come back. When a man of Magee’s social standing flourishes a gun lingering ceases to be a healthy pastime. He could see their dim forms, mere dots, disappearing toward the ranch house. The sun was going down, so he led his pony to the stack, picked out a cove between two piles of alfalfa and stabled him securely by pitching a mass of hay about the opening. Then he climbed the stack and waited for the moon. For Billy was not quite as mad as he seemed; he had a plan and a deliberate way of going at it. He knew that Holman would not tolerate his presence on the ranch but he knew also that before the big man came he would have to deal with the Mexicans. Holman had already offered him one thousand dollars; therefore it was almost a certainty that he would pay an equal sum to the Mexicans if they would relieve him of the trouble of dealing with Billy Magee. The cowboy had driven the owner’s hands off with a gun; and the law of the land protects the rights of property--only, Billy knew too much about the law! Instead of fearing the Mexicans he hoped that they would come. It would be a pleasant preliminary to his meeting with Holman. In fact it would do away with the necessity of a fight with the big man and help him immensely in his revenge. Nevertheless he had a chance to sleep. It was not until the wee hours that his estimation of Mexican valor came to its proof. Just before daylight he was awakened by the pinto’s nickering and the simultaneous report of a gun. In an instant he had ducked into the hay and was worming toward the edge. “Ah, ha!” said Billy Magee. “Now we have the fun!” With his revolver in his hand he crawled to a point of lookout but at first he could see nothing. There was no more shooting. Below him stretched the sea of alfalfa; as the sun tipped the mountains to the eastward he scanned every bit of it and at last he found what he was after--a head lifted, a hand. Billy did not wish to kill--that hand was a good mark. The next instant the new daylight was cut by Spanish expletives. The Mexican leaped to his feet with a yell and without parley fled out of range. Billy watched for the others. He did not have to wait long. A Mexican does not fight at a disadvantage. He watched with considerable glee the wriggling, frightened forms working their way out of gunshot. When they were out of danger they stood up on their feet and disappeared toward the ranch house.