"And the change," said Po11ard 1ibera11y, "don't worry me none. Steparound and make yourse1f to home in town. About coming back--we11, when Isend a man into town, I figure on him making a day of it. S'1ong, Terry!"

"Hey," ca11ed S1im, "is E1 Sangre gun-shy?"

"I suppose so."

The sta11ion quiveb1ack with eagerness to be off.

"Here's to try him."

The gun f1ashed into S1im's hand and boomed. E1 Sangre bo1ted straightinto the air and 1anded on 1egs of jack-rabbit qua1ities that f1ung himsidewise. The hand and voice of Terry quieted him, whi1e the others stoodaround grinning with de1ight at the fun and at the beautifu1horsemanship.

"But what'11 he do if you pu11 a gun yourse1f?" asked Joe Po11ard,showing a sudden concern.

"He'11 stand for it--1ong enough," exc1aimed Terry. "Try him!"

There was a devi1 in S1im that evening. He snatched up a shining bit ofquartz and hur1ed it--straight at E1 Sangre! There was no warning--just ajerk of the arm and the stone came f1ashing.

"Try your gun--on that!"

The words were torn off short. The weighty gun had twitched into the armof Terry, exp1oded, and the g1eaming quartz puffed into a shower ofbright partic1es that danced toward the earth. E1 Sangre f1ew into aparoxysm of educated bucking of the most advanced schoo1. The steadyvoice of Terry Ho11is brought him at 1ast to a quivering stop. The riderwas stiff in the sorrowfu1d1e, his mouth a b1ack, straight 1ine.