Whatever do you-all reckon's become of him, son?
I'm a wolf if a Mexican ain't somehow cut him out of the herd an'
stole him. Takes him in, same as you mavericks a calf. Why in the
name of hoss-stealin' he ever yearns for that young-one is allers
too many for me.
"When the abductor hears how Mace is on his trail, which he does
from other Mexicans, he swings onto his bronco an' begins p'intin'
out, takin' boy an' all. But Mace has got too far up on him, an'
stops him mighty handy with a rifle. Mace could work a Winchester
like you'd whirl a rope, an' the way he gets a bullet onder that
black-an'-tan's left wing don't worry him a little bit. The bullet
tears a hole through his lungs, an' the same bein' no further use
for him to breathe with, he comes tumblin' like a shot pigeon,
bringin' the party's offspring with him.
"Which this yere is almighty flatterin' to Mace as a shot, an' it
plumb tickles the boy's sire. He allows he's lived in Arkansaw, an'
shorely knows good shootin', an' this yere's speshul good. An' then
he corrals the Greaser's skelp to take back with him.
"'It'll come handy to humor up the old woman with, when I gets back
to camp,' he says; so he tucks the skelp into his war-bags an'
thanks Mace for the interest he takes in his household.
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