impressions。
  We　succeeded　in　killing　a　nice；　fat　white…tail　buck；　and　so
  returned　to　camp　happy。　　The　rain；　held　off。　　We　dug　ditches；
  organised　shelters；　cooked　a　warm　meal。　　For　the　next　day　we
  planned　a　bear　hunt　afoot；　far　up　a　manzanita　canon　where
  Uncle　Jim　knew　of　some　〃holing　up〃　caves。
  But　when　we　awoke　in　the　morning　we　threw　aside　our　coverings
  with　some　difficulty　to　look　on　a　ground　covered　with　snow；　trees
  laden　almost　to　the　breaking　point　with　snow；　and　the　air　filled
  with　it。
  〃No　bear　today〃　said　the　Cattleman。
  〃No；〃　agreed　Uncle　Jim　drily。　　〃No　b'ar。　　And　what's　more；　unless
  yo're　aimin'　to　stop　here　somewhat　of　a　spell；　we'll　have　to　make
  out　to…day。〃
  We　cooked　with　freezing　fingers；　ate　while　dodging　avalanches
  from　the　trees；　and　packed　reluctantly。　　The　ropes　were　frozen；
  the　hobbles　stiff；　everything　either　crackling　or　wet。　　Finally
  the　task　was　finished。　　We　took　a　last　warming　of　the　fingers　and
  climbed　on。
  The　country　was　wonderfully　beautiful　with　the　white　not　yet
  shaken　from　the　trees　and　rock　ledges。　　Also　it　was　wonderfully
  slippery。　　The　snow　was　soft　enough　to　ball　under　the　horses'
  hoofs；　so　that　most　of　the　time　the　poor　animals　skated　and
  stumbled　along　on　stilts。　　Thus　we　made　our　way　back　over　ground
  which；　naked　of　these　difficulties；　we　had　considered　bad　enough。
  Imagine　riding　along　a　slant　of　rock　shelving　off　to　a　bad
  tumble；　so　steep　that　your　pony　has　to　do　more　or　less　expert
  ankle　work　to　keep　from　slipping　off　sideways。　　During　the
  passage　of　that　rock　you　are　apt　to　sit　very　light。　　Now　cover　it
  with　several　inches　of　snow；　stick　a　snowball　on　each　hoof　of
  your　mount；　and　try　again。　　When　you　have　ridden　itor　its
  duplicatea　few　score　of　times；　select　a　steep　mountain　side；
  cover　it　with　round　rocks　the　size　of　your　head；　and　over　that
  spread　a　concealing　blanket　of　the　same　sticky　snow。　　You　are
  privileged　to　vary　these　to　the　limits　of　your　imagination。
  Once　across　the　divide；　we　ran　into　a　new　sort　of　trouble。　　You
  may　remember　that　on　our　journey　over　we　had　been　forced　to
  travel　for　some　distance　in　a　narrow　stream…bed。　　During　our
  passage　we　had　scrambled　up　some　rather　steep　and　rough　slopes；
  and　hopped　up　some　fairly　high　ledges。　　Now　we　found　the
  heretofore　dry　bed　flowing　a　good　eight　inches　deep。　　The　steep
  slopes　had　become　cascades；　the　ledges；　waterfalls。　　When　we
  came　to　them；　we　had　to　〃shoot　the　rapids〃　as　best　we　could；
  only　to　land　with　a　PLUNK　in　an　indeterminately　deep　pool　at　the
  bottom。　　Some　of　the　pack　horses　went　down；　sousing　again　our
  unfortunate　bedding；　but　by　the　grace　of　fortune　not　a　saddle
  pony　lost　his　feet。
  After　a　time　the　gorge　widened。　　We　came　out　into　the　box　canon
  with　its　trees。　　Here　the　water　spread　and　shoaled　to　a　depth　of
  only　two　or　three　inches。　　We　splashed　along　gaily　enough；　for；
  with　the　exception　of　an　occasional　quicksand　or　boggy　spot；　our
  troubles　were　over。
  Jed　Parker　and　I　happened　to　ride　side　by　side；　bringing　up　the
  rear　and　seeing　to　it　that　the　pack　animals　did　not　stray　or
  linger。　　As　we　passed　the　first　of　the　rustlers'　corrals；　he
  called　my　attention　to　them。
  〃Go　take　a　look；〃　said　he。　〃We　only　got　those　fellows　out　of
  here　two　years　ago。〃
  I　rode　over。　　At　this　point　the　rim…rock　broke　to　admit　the
  ingress　of　a　ravine　into　the　main　canon。　　Riding　a　short
  distance　up　the　ravine；　I　could　see　that　it　ended　abruptly　in　a
  perpendicular　cliff。　　As　the　sides　also　were　precipitous；　it
  became　necessary　only　to　build　a　fence　across　the　entrance　into
  the　main　canon　to　become　possessed　of　a　corral　completely
  closed　in。　　Remembering　the　absolute　invisibility　of　these
  sunken　canons　until　the　rider　is　almost　directly　over　them；　and
  also　the　extreme　roughness　and　remoteness　of　the　district；　I
  could　see　that　the　spot　was　admirably　adapted　to　concealment。
  〃There's　quite　a　yarn　about　the　gang　that　held　this　hole；〃　said
  Jed　Parker　to　me；　when　I　had　ridden　back　to　him　　〃I'll　tell　you
  about　it　sometime。〃
  We　climbed　the　hill；　descended　on　the　Double　R；　built　a　fire　in
  the　stove；　dried　out；　and　were　happy。　　After　a　square　mealand　a
  dry　oneI　reminded　Jed　Parker　of　his　promise；　and　so；　sitting
  cross…legged　on　his　〃so…gun〃　in　the　middle　of　the　floor；　he　told
  us　the　following　yarn：
  There's　a　good　deal　of　romance　been　written　about　the　〃bad　man；〃
  and　there's　about　the　same　amount　of　nonsense。　　The　bad　man　is
  justa　plain　murderer；　neither　more　nor　less。　　He　never　does　get
  into　a　real；　good；　plain；　stand…up　gunfight　if　he　can　possibly
  help　it。　　His　killin's　are　done　from　behind　a　door；　or　when　he's
  got　his　man　dead　to　rights。　　There's　Sam　Cook。　　You've　all　heard
  of　him。　　He　had　nerve；　of　course；　and　when　he　was　backed　into　a
  corner　he　made　good；　he　was　sure　sudden　death　with　a　gun。　　But
  when　he　went　for　a　man　deliberate；　he　didn't　take　no　special
  chances。　　For　a　while　he　was　marshal　at　Willets。　　Pretty　soon　it
  was　noted　that　there　was　a　heap　of　cases　of　resisting　arrest；
  where　Sam　as　marshal　had　to　shoot；　and　that　those　cases　almost
  always　happened　to　be　his　personal　enemies。　　Of　course；　that
  might　be　all　right；　but　it　looked　suspicious。　　Then　one　day　he
  killed　poor　old　Max　Schmidt　out　behind　his　own　saloon。　　Called
  him　out　and　shot　him　in　the　stomach。　　Said　Max　resisted　arrest　on
  a　warrant　for　keepin'　open　out　of　hours！　　That　was　a　sweet
  warrant　to　take　out　in　Willets；　anyway！　　Mrs。　Schmidt　always
  claimed　that　she　say　that　deal　played；　and　that；　while　they　were
  talkin'　perfectly　peacable；　Cook　let　drive　from　the　hip　at　about
  two　yards'　range。　　Anyway；　we　decided　we　needed　another　marshal。
  Nothin'　else　was　ever　done；　for　the　Vigilantes　hadn't　been
  formed；　and　your　individual　and　decent　citizen　doesn't　care　to　be
  marked　by　a　gun　of　that　stripe。　　Leastwise；　unless　he　wants　to　go
  in　for　bad…man　methods　and　do　a　little　ambusheein'　on　his　own
  account。
  The　point　is；　that　these　yere　bad　men　are　a　low…down；　miserable
  proposition；　and　plain；　cold…blood　murderers；　willin'　to　wait　for
  a　sure　thing；　and　without　no　compunctions　whatsoever。　　The　bad
  man　takes　you　unawares；　when　you're　sleepin'；　or　talkin'；　or
  drinkin'；　or　lookin'　to　see　what　for　a　day　it's　goin'　to　be；
  anyway。　　He　don't　give　you　no　show；　and　sooner　or　later　he's
  goin'　to　get　you　in　the　safest　and　easiest　way　for　himself。
  There　ain't　no　romance　about　that。
  And；　until　you've　seen　a　few　men　called　out　of　their　shacks　for　a
  friendly　conversation；　and　shot　when　they　happen　to　look　away；　or
  asked　for　a　drink　of　water；　and　killed　when　they　stoop　to　the
  spring；　or　potted　from　behind　as　they　go　into　a　room；　it's　pretty
  hard　to　believe　that　any　man　can　he　so　plumb　lackin'　in　fair　play
  or　pity　or　just　natural　humanity。
  As　you　boys　know；　I　come　in　from　Texas　to　Buck　Johnson's　about
  ten　year　back。　　I　had　a　pretty　good　mount　of　ponies　that　I　knew；
  and　I　hated　to　let　them　go　at　prices　they　were　offerin'　then；　so
  I　made　up　my　mind　to　ride　across　and　bring　them　in　with　me。　　It
  wasn't　so　awful　far；　and　I　figured　that　I'd　like　to　take　in　what
  New　Mexico　looked　like　anyway。
  About　down　by　Albuquerque　I　tracked　up　with　another　outfit　headed
  my　way。　　There　was　five　of　them；　three　men；　and　a　woman；　and　a
  yearlin'　baby。　　They　had　a　dozen　hosses；　and　that　was　about　all　I
  could　see。　　There　was　only　two　packed；　and　no　wagon。　　I　suppose
  the　whole　outfitpots；　pans；　and　kettleswas　worth　five
  dollars。　　It　was　just　supper　when　I　run　across　them；　and　it
  didn't　take　more'n　one　look　to　discover　that　flour；　coffee；
  sugar；　and　salt　was　all　they　carried。　　A　yearlin'　carcass；
  half…skinned；　lay　near；　and　the　fry…pan　was；　full　of　meat。
  〃Howdy；　strangers；〃　says　I；　ridin'　up。
  They　nodded　a　little；　but　didn't　say　nothin'。　　My　hosses　fell　to
  grazin'；　and　I　eased　myself　around　in　my　saddle；　and　made　a
  cigareet。　　The　men　was　tall；　lank　fellows；　with　kind　of　sullen
  faces；　and　sly；　shifty　eyes；　the　woman　was　dirty　and　generally
  mussed　up。　　I　knowed　that　sort　all　right。　　Texas　was　gettin'　too
  many　fences　for　them。
  〃Havin'　supper？〃　says　I；　cheerful。
  One　of　'em　grunted　〃Yes〃　at　me；　and；　after　a　while；　the　biggest
  asked　me　very　grudgin'　if　I　wouldn't　light　and　eat；　I　told　them
  〃No；〃　that　I　was　travellin'　in　the　cool　of　the　evenin'。
  〃You　seem　to　have　more　meat　than　you　need；　though；〃　says　I。　　〃I
  could　use　a　little　of　that。〃
  〃Help　yourself；〃　says　they。　　〃It's　a　maverick　we　come　across。〃
  I　took　a　steak；　and　noted　that　the　hide　had　been　mighty　well　cut
  to　ribbons　around　the　flanks　and　that　the　head　was　gone。
  〃Well；〃　says　I　to　the　carcass；　〃No　one's　going　to　be　able　to
  swear　whether　you're　a　maverick　or　not；　but　I　bet　you　knew　the
  feel　of　a　brandin'　iron　all　right。〃
  I　gave　them　a　thank…you；　and　climbed　on　again。　　My　hosses　acted
  some　surprised　at　bein'　gathered　up　again；　but　I　c