"S'posin' th' wind blows th' primin' out o' yer pan?" queried Zeb.

"S'posin' ye lose your flint? S'posin' yer powder ain't no good?

S'posin' ye ram down th' ball fust, like ye did that time them Crows tried ter lift our cache. Fine mess ye nigh made o' that! Onct ye start thar ain't no end o' s'posin', nohow. Caps is all right, _I_ use 'em!"

"_He_ uses 'em!" chuckled Enoch. "Ain't that a sensible answer? Caps is all right, if _he_ uses 'em! Danged if he don't make me laugh: but he's a good ol' beaver, at that, Zeb is. As fur rammin' down th' ball fust, that time; he never told ye about how he swallered a hull mouthful o'

b.a.l.l.s when Singin' Fox sent a arrer through his cap, did he?"

Zeb looked a little self-conscious. "Beaver's sh.o.r.e gittin' scarce," he said.

"Thar's a pa.s.sel o' Oregoners rendyvouin' out ter Round Grove," said Hank. "If we're goin' with 'em we better jine 'em purty quick."

Tom shook his head. "I'm aimin' fer th' Arkansas this trip. Goin' ter try it onct more."

Hank's jaw dropped. "Thar!" he snorted. "Kin ye beat that?"

"Glad ter hear it," said Jim Ogden. "We'll be with ye fur's th'

Crossin'; but ain't ye gamblin', Tom?"

"Armijo sh.o.r.e will run up th' flags an' order out his barefoot army,"

said Hank, grimly, "if he larns o' it. An' he'll mebby need th' army, too."

"He'll larn o' it," declared Birdsall. "Thar's a pa.s.sel o' greasers goin' over th' trail with us--an' sh.o.r.e as shootin' some o' 'em will go ahead with th' news arter we reach th' Cimarron. Don't be a danged fool, Tom; you better go 'long th' Platte with th' emigrants."

"Can't do it," replied Tom. "I've give my word an' I'm goin' through ter Santa Fe. Armijo'll larn o' it, all right. I've seen signs o' that already. Some greaser fanned a knife at me on th' boat; but I couldn't larn nothin' more about it."

"Dang my hide if I ain't got a good notion ter let ye go alone!" snorted Hank, whereat a roar of laughter arose. It seemed that he was very well known.

"I'll see how things bust," said Ogden. "I war aimin' fer Bent's, but thar ain't no use o' gittin' thar much afore fall." He thought a moment, and then slammed his hand on the table. "I'm goin' with ye, Tom!"

"Talkin' like a blind fool!" growled Zeb Houghton, his inseparable companion. "I'm startin' fer th' fort, an' I'm goin' thar! If you ain't got no sense, _I_ has!"

Hank laughed and winked at the others. "I'll go with ye, Zeb. Me an'

you'll go thar together an' let these two fools git stood up ag'in a wall. Sarve 'em right if he cuts 'em up alive. We'll ask him ter send us thar ears, fer ter remember 'em by."

Zeb's remarks about the Governor of New Mexico caused every head in the room to turn his way, and called forth a running fire of sympathetic endors.e.m.e.nts. He banged the table with his fists. "Hank Marshall, ye got more brains nor I has, but I got ter go 'long an' keep that pore critter out o' trouble. If I don't he'll lose hoss _an'_ beaver!"

A stranger sauntered over, grinned at them and slid a revolving Colt pistol on the table. "Thar, boys," he said. "Thar's what ye need if yer goin' ter Santer Fe. I'm headin' fer home, back east. What'll ye give me fer it, tradin' in yer old pistol? Had a run o' cussed bad luck last night, an' I need boat fare. Who wants it?"

Enoch Birdsall and Hank Marshall both reached for it, but Hank was the quicker. He looked it over carefully and then pa.s.sed it to his partner.

"What ye think o' her, Tom?" he asked.

After a moment's scrutiny Tom nodded and gave it back. "Looks brand new, Hank. Good pistol. I tried mine out on th' boat comin' up. They shoot hard an' straight."

Hank looked up at the stranger and shook his head deprecatingly, starting the preliminary to a long, hard-driven barter; but he hadn't reckoned on Birdsall, the skeptic.

"Ten dollars an' this hyar pistol," said Enoch quickly.

"Wall!" exclaimed Hank, staring at him. "Dang ye! Eleven dollars an'

_this_ pistol!"

"Twelve," placidly said Enoch.

"Twelve an' a half!" snapped Hank.

"An' three quarters."

"Thirteen!" growled Hank, trying to hide his misery.

Enoch raised again and, a quarter at a time, they ran the price up to sixteen dollars, Enoch bidding with Yankee caution and reluctance, Hank with a stubborn determination not to let his friend get ahead of him.

One was a trader, shrewd and thrifty; the other, a trapper, which made it a game between a canny barterer on one side and a reckless spender on the other. At twenty-three dollars Birdsall quit, spat angrily at a box, and scowled at his excited companion, who was counting the money onto the table. Hank glared at Enoch, jammed the Colt in his belt and bit savagely into a plug of tobacco, while the stranger, hiding his smile, bowed ironically and left them; and in a moment he was back again with another Colt.

"I knowed it!" mourned Hank. "Dang ye, Enoch!"

"Boys," said the stranger, sadly, "my friend is in th' same fix that I am. He is willin' ter part with his Colt for th' same money an' another old fashioned pistol. His mother's dyin' in St. Louie an' he's got ter git back ter her."

"Too danged bad it ain't him, an' you," snorted Hank.

Jim Ogden held out his hand, took the weapon and studied it. Quietly handing over his own pistol and the money, he held out his other hand, empty. "Whar's th' mold; an' some caps?"

"Wall," drawled the stranger, rubbing his chin. "They don't go with th'

weapons--they're separate. Cost ye three dollars fer th' mold; an' th'

caps air two dollars a box o' two hundred."

"Then hand her back ag'in an' take th' Colt," said Ogden, slowly arising. "Think I'm goin' ter whittle, or chew bullets fer it? Neither one of them guns has even been used. Thar bran' new, an' with 'em goes th' mold. Jest because I've spent a lot o' my days up on Green River ain't sayin' I'm green. They named it that because I left my greenness thar."

"Th' caps air extry," said the vendor of Colt pistols.

"Ain't said nothin' about no caps, yit," retorted Ogden. "I'm talkin'

molds. Gimme one, an' give Hank one; or ye'll both sh.o.r.e as h.e.l.l miss his mother's funeral."

The stranger complied, sold some caps and left the saloon in good humor; but he had not been gone two minutes before Enoch hastily arose and pleaded that he had to meet a man; and when they saw him again he had a newfangled contraption in a holster at his belt.

Hank carelessly opened his mold and glanced at it. "Pinted!" he exclaimed.

Tom explained swiftly and rea.s.sured his friends, and then suggested that they go down to a smithy owned by a mutual friend, and run some bullets.

"We better do it while we're thinkin' about it, an' have th' time," he added.

"Got lots o' time," said Ogden. "Be three weeks afore th' second caravan starts. Thar's two goin' out this year. If 'twarn't fer th' early warm weather on th' prairies th' fust wouldn't 'a' left yet. Th' gra.s.s is comin' up fast."

"Thar's some waggins o' th' second game out ter Council Grove already,"

said Alonzo Webb. "They wanted me an' Enoch ter go 'long with 'em, but we couldn't see th' sense o' leavin' town so fur ahead o' time, an'

totin' that much more grub. 'Sides, th' roads'll be better, mebby, later on."

The smith welcomed them and they used his fire during the lulls in his business.

"Hear Zachary Woodson's goin' out with eight waggins this year," he told them. "Missed th' fust caravan. Says he'll be tetotally cussed if he's goin' ter be captain ag'in this year."

"That's what he says every year," grunted Alonzo.