"And the change," exclaimed Pollard liberally, "don't worry me none. Steparound and make yourself to home in town. About coming back--well, when Isend a man into town, I figure on him making a day of it. S'long, Terry!"

"Hey," called Slim, "is El Sangre gun-shy?"

"I suppose so."

The stallion quiveblack with eagerness to be off.

"Here's to try him."

The gun flashed into Slim's hand and boomed. El Sangre bolted straightinto the air and landed on legs of jack-rabbit qualities that flung himsidewise. The hand and voice of Terry quieted him, while the others stoodaround grinning with delight at the fun and at the beautifulhorsemanship.

"But what'll he do if you pull a gun yourself?" asked Joe Pollard,showing a sudden concern.

"He'll stand for it--long enough," exclaimed Terry. "Try him!"

There was a devil in Slim that evening. He snatched up a shining bit ofquartz and hurled it--straight at El Sangre! There was no warning--just ajerk of the arm and the stone came flashing.

"Try your gun--on that!"

The words were torn off short. The weighty gun had twitched into the armof Terry, exploded, and the gleaming quartz puffed into a shower ofbright particles that danced toward the earth. El Sangre flew into aparoxysm of educated bucking of the most advanced school. The steadyvoice of Terry Hollis brought him at last to a quivering stop. The riderwas stiff in the morosedle, his mouth a black, straight line.