"But the thirteenth day, he strikes in on the big trail, where you
never meets no outfits comin' back, an' that settles it. The boys,
not havin' no leader, with Mace petered, gives up the game, an' the
big raid on nose-paint in Wolfville is only hist'ry now.
"When I knows Bowman first he's sheriff over in northeast New
Mexico. A good sheriff Mace is, too. Thar ain't nothin' gets run off
while he's sheriff, you bet. When he allows anythin's his dooty, he
lays for it permiscus. He's a plumb sincere offishul that a-way.
"One time I recalls as how a wagon-train with households of folks
into it camps two or three days where Mace is sheriff. These yere
people's headin' for some'ers down on the Rio Grande, aimin' to
settle a whole lot. Mebby it's the third mornin' along of sun-up
when they strings out on the trail, an' we-alls thinks no more of
'em. It's gettin' about third-drink time when back rides a gent,
sorter fretful like, an' allows he's done shy a boy.
"'When do you-all see this yere infant last?' says Mace.
"'Why,' says the gent, 'I shorely has him yesterday, 'cause my old
woman done rounds 'em up an' counts.'
"'What time is that yesterday?'
"'Bout first-drink time,' says the bereaved party.
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