horse-feed, but by G----, Sam, there isn't a drop of whiskey on the
place!"'

"You see it was hoss and cabello, and Joe seemed to think the hoss
on him was an unpardonable offense. Salt? You'll find it in an empty
one-spoon baking-powder can over there. In those panniers that belong
to that big sorrel mule. Look at Mexico over there burying his fangs
in the venison, will you?"

Ramrod was on guard, but he was so hungry himself that he was good
enough to let the prisoners eat at the same time, although he kept
them at a respectable distance. He was old in the service, and had
gotten his name under a baptism of fire. He was watching a pass once
for smugglers at a point called Emigrant Gap. This was long before he
had come to the present company. At length the man he was waiting for
came along. Ramrod went after him at close quarters, but the fellow
was game and drew his gun. When the smoke cleared away, Ramrod had
brought down his horse and winged his man right and left. The smuggler
was not far behind on the shoot, for Ramrod's coat and hat showed he
was calling for him. The captain was joshing the prisoner about his
poor shooting when Ramrod brought him into camp and they were dressing
his wounds. "Well," said the fellow, "I tried to hard enough, but I
couldn't find him. He's built like a ramrod."

After breakfast was over we smoked and yarned. It would be two-hour
guards for the day, keeping an eye on the prisoners and stock, only
one man required; so we would all get plenty of sleep. Conajo had the
first guard after breakfast. "I remember once," said Sergeant Smoky,
as he crushed a pipe of twist with the heel of his hand, "we were
camped out on the 'Sunset' railway. I was a corporal at the time.