guns and all that pertained to them. The feel of a six-shooter in his
hand gave him absolute pleasure. The sound of a six-shooter was music
to him, and the potency contained in the polished cylinder filled with
blunt-nosed slugs was something that he could appreciate. He was a
born gunman, as yet only in love with the tools of his trade,
interested more in the manipulation than in eventual results. He
wished to become expert, but in becoming expert he forgot for the time
being his original intent of eventually becoming the avenger of
Annersley. Pride in his ability to draw quick and shoot straight, with
an occasional word of praise from old Montoya, pretty well satisfied
him. When he was not practicing he was working, and thought only of
the task at hand.

Pete was generally liked in the towns where he occasionally bought
provisions. He was known as "Montoya's boy," and the townsfolk had a
high respect for the old Mexican. One circumstance, however, ruffled
the placid tenor of his way and tended to give him the reputation of
being a "bronco muchacho"--a rough boy; literally a bad boy, as white
folks would have called him.

Montoya sent him into town for some supplies. As usual, Pete rode one
of the burros. It was customary for Pete to leave his gun in camp when
going to town. Montoya had suggested that he do this, as much for
Pete's sake as for anything else. The old man knew that slightly older
boys were apt to make fun of Pete for packing such a disproportionately
large gun--or, in fact, for packing any gun at all. And Montoya also
feared that Pete might get into trouble. Pete was pugnacious,
independent, and while always possessing enough humor to hold his own
in a wordy argument, he had much pride, considering himself the equal
of any man and quite above the run of youths of the towns. And he