cattle-rustlers three years before, them folks got the willies when they seen some of the ropes still sticking onto the limbs, and wouldn't on no account eat their dinner there. You got no idee what pecooliar folks them immigrants is till you've saw some.
Well, we stopped a few miles further on, in another grove in the midst of a wide rolling country with plenty of trees and tall grass, and I didn't tell 'em that was where them outlaws murdered the three Grissom boys in their sleep. Old Man Richardson said it looked like as good a place as any to locate the settlement. But I told him we was going to look over the whole derned valley before we chosed a spot. He kind of wilted and said at least for God's sake let 'em rest a few days.
I never seen folks which tired out so easy, but I said all right, and we camped there that night. I hadn't saw no signs of Zamora's gang since we come into the valley, and thought likely they was all off stealing hosses somewhere. Not that it made any difference.
Early next morning Ned and Joe, the old man's boys, they wanted to look for deer, and I told 'em not to go more'n a mile from camp, and be keerful, and they said they would, and sot out to the south.
I went back of the camp a mile or so to the creek where Jim Dornley ambushed Tom Harrigan four years before, and taken me a swim. I stayed longer'n I intended to, it was sech a relief to get away from them helpless tenderfoots for a while, and when I rode back into camp, I seen Ned approaching with a stranger--a young white man, which carried hisself with a air of great importance.
'Hey, pap!' hollered young Ned as they dismounted. 'Where's Mister Elkins? This feller says we can't stay in Bowie Knife Canyon!'
'Who're you?' I demanded, emerging from behind a wagon, and the stranger's eyes bugged out as he seen me.
'My name's George Warren,' says he. 'A wagon train of us just came into the valley from the east yesterday. We're from Illinois.'
'And by what right does you order people outa this canyon?' I ast.
'We got the fightin'est man in the world guidin' us,' says he. 'I thought he was the biggest man in the world till I seen you. But he ain't to be fooled with. When he heard they was another train in the valley, he sent me to tell you to git. You better, too, if you got any sense!'
'We don't want no trouble!' quavered Old Man Richardson.
'You got a nerve!' I snorted, and I pulled George Warren's hat down so the brim come off and hung around his neck like a collar, and turnt him around and lifted him off the ground with a boot in the pants, and then throwed him bodily onto his hoss. 'Go back and tell yore champeen that Bowie Knife Canyon belongs to us!' I roared, slinging a few bullets around his hoss' feet. 'And we gives him one hour to hitch up and clear out!'
'I'll git even for this!' wept George Warren, as he streaked it for his home range. 'You'll be sorry, you big polecat! Jest wait'll I tell Mister--' I couldn't catch what else he said.
'Now I bet he's mad,' says Old Man Richardson. 'We better go. After all--'
'Shet up!' I roared. 'This here valley's our'n, and I intends to defend our rights to the last drop of yore blood! Hitch them mules and swing the wagons in a circle! Pile yore saddles and plunder betwixt the wheels. I got a idee you all fights better behind breastworks. Did you see their camp, Ned?'
'Naw,' says he, 'but George Warren said it lies about three miles east of our'n. Me and Joe got separated and I was swingin' east around the south end of that ridge over there, when I met this George Warren. He said he was out lookin' for a hoss before sun-up and seen our camp and went back and told their guide, and he sent him over to tell us to git out.'
'I'm worried about Joe,' said Old Man Richardson. 'He ain't come back.'
'I'll go look for him,' I said. 'I'll also scout their camp, and if the odds ain't more'n ten to one, we don't wait for 'em to attack. We goes over and wipes 'em out pronto. Then we hangs their fool sculps to our wagon bows as a warnin' to other sech scoundrels.'
Old Man Richardson turnt pale and his knees knocked together, but I told him sternly to get to work swinging them wagons, and clumb onto Cap'n Kidd and lit out.
REASON I HADN'T SAW the smoke of the Illinois camp was on account of a thick-timbered ridge which lay east of our camp. I swung around the south end of that ridge and headed east, and I'd gone maybe a mile and a half when I seen a man riding toward me.
When he seen me he come lickety-split, and I could see the sun shining on his Winchester barrel. I cocked my .45-90 and rode toward him and we met in the middle of a open flat. And suddenly we both lowered our weppins and pulled up, breast to breast, glaring at each other.
'Breckinridge Elkins!' says he.
'Cousin Bearfield Buckner!' says I. 'Air you the man which sent that unlicked cub of a George Warren to bring me a defiance?'
'Who else?' he snarled. He always had a awful temper.
'Well,' I says, 'this here is our valley. You all got to move on.'
'What you mean, move on?' he yelled. 'I brung them pore critters all the way from Dodge City, Kansas, where I encountered 'em bein' tormented by some wuthless buffalo hunters which is no longer in the land of the livin'. I've led 'em through fire, flood, hostile Injuns and white renegades. I promised to lead 'em into a land of milk and honey, and I been firm with 'em, even when they weakened theirselves. Even when they begged on bended knees to be allowed to go back to Illinois, I wouldn't hear of it, because, as I told 'em, I knowed what was best for 'em. I had this canyon in mind all the time. And now you tells me to move on!'
Cousin Bearfield rolled an eye and spit on his hand. I jest waited.
'What sort of a reply does you make to my request to go on and leave us in peace?' he goes on. 'George Warren come back to camp wearin' his hat brim around his neck and standin' up in the stirrups because he was too sore to set in the saddle. So I set 'em fortifyin' the camp whilst I went forth to reconnoiter. That word I sent you, I now repeats in person. Yo're my blood-kin, but principles comes first!'
'Me, too,' I said. 'A Nevada Elkins' principles is as loftey as a Texas Buckner's any day. I whupped you a year ago in Cougar Paw--'
'That's a cussed lie!' gnashed he. 'You taken a base advantage and lammed me with a oak log when I warn't expectin' it!'
'Be that as it may,' says I, '--ignorin' the fack that you had jest beaned me with a rock the size of a water- bucket--the only way to settle this dispute is to fight it out like gents. But we got to determine what weppins to use. The matter's too deep for fists.'
'I'd prefer butcher knives in a dark room,' says he, 'only they ain't no room. If we jest had a couple of sawed-off shotguns, or good double-bitted axes--I tell you, Breck, le's tie our left hands together and work on each other with our bowies.'
'Naw,' I says, 'I got a better idee. We'll back our hosses together, and then ride for the oppersite sides of the flat. When we git there we'll wheel and charge back, shootin' at each other with our Winchesters. Time they're empty we'll be clost enough to use our pistols, and when we've emptied them we'll be clost enough to finish the fight with our bowies.'
'Good idee!' agreed Bearfield. 'You always was a brainy, cultured sort of a lobo, if you wasn't so damn stubborn. Now, me, I'm reasonable. When I'm wrong, I admit it.'
'You ain't never admitted it so far,' says I.
'I ain't never been wrong yet!' he roared. 'And I'll kyarve the gizzard of the buzzard which says I am! Come on! Le's git goin'.'
So we started to gallop to the oppersite sides of the flat when I heard a voice hollering: 'Mister Elkins! Mister Elkins!'
'Hold on!' I says. 'That's Joe Richardson.'
NEXT MINUTE JOE COME tearing out of the bresh from the south on a mustang I hadn't never seen before, with a Mexican saddle and bridle on. He didn't have no hat nor shirt, and his back was criss-crossed with bloody streaks. He likewise had a cut in his sculp which dribbled blood down his face.
'Mexicans!' he panted. 'I got separated from Ned and rode further'n I should ought to had. About five miles down the canyon I run into a big gang of Mexicans--about thirty of 'em. One was that feller Gomez. Their leader was a big feller they called Zamora.
'They grabbed me and taken my hoss, and whupped me with their quirts. Zamora said they was goin' to wipe
