XLV.

I crowded the mustang back, ontil He riz on his haunches--an' I sed, "In the Maker's name, who may ye be?" Sez a vice, "Old feller, jest ride ahead!" "All right!" sez I, an' I shook the rein. "Ye've turn'd the herd in a hansum style-- Whoever ye be, I'll not back down!" An' I didn't, neither,--ye bet yer pile!