Two
days later, though, he gets a p'inter the Mexicans is fixin' for
him. So that night he moves camp--mebby to where it's a hundred an'
sixty miles from Wagon Mound, over on the Vermejo.
"'But it looks like the Greasers hangs to the trail; for the day
before I tracks up on him a band of 'em hops outen a dry arroya,
where they's bush-wackin' for him, an' goes to shootin'. As might be
expected, Spanish Bill turns loose, free an' frequent, an' they all
shorely has a high, excessive time.
"'The Mexicans downs Spanish Bill's pony, an' a bullet creases
Bill's side; which last is what curves him over an' indooces him to
limp when I trails up with him.
"'As Spanish Bill goes down, the Mexicans scatter. The game is too
high for 'em. They was shy two people, with another plugged deep an'
strong; by which you notes that Bill is aimin' low an' good.
"'After the shootin' Spanish Bill crawls over to a ranch, an',
gettin' a pony an' saddle, which he easy does, he breaks back into
the hills where I encounters him. It's that morning his pony gets
tired of the deal, an' bucks him off, an' goes stampedin' back.
That's why he's afoot.
"'While he's talkin' all this, I recalls how Spanish Bill rounds me
up that night in Taos, so I don't hesitate.
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