moved　forward　in　the　direction　in　which　he　had　last　seen　the
  buckboard。
  At　the　top　of　the　steep　little　bank　he　stopped　behind　the
  mesquite；　straining　his　eyes；　luck　had　been　good　to　him。　　The
  buckboard　had　pulled　up；　and　Brent　Palmer　was　at　the　moment
  beginning　a　little　fire；　evidently　to　make　the　morning　coffee。
  Senor　Johnson　struck　spurs　to　his　horse　and　half　slid；　half　fell；
  clattering；　down　the　steep　clay　bank　almost　on　top　of　the　couple
  below。
  Estrella　screamed。　　Brent　Palmer　jerked　out　an　oath；　and　reached
  for　his　gun。　　The　loop　of　the　riata　fell　wide　over　him；
  immediately　to　be　jerked　tight；　binding　his　arms　tight　to　his
  side。
  The　bronco…buster；　swept　from　his　feet　by　the　pony's　rapid　turn；
  nevertheless　struggled　desperately　to　wrench　himself　loose。
  Button；　intelligent　at　all　rope　work；　walked　steadily　backward；
  step　by　step；　taking　up　the　slack；　keeping　the　rope　tight　as　he
  had　done　hundreds　of　times　before　when　a　steer　had　struggled　as
  this　man　was　struggling　now。　　His　master　leaped　from　the　saddle
  and　ran　forward。　　Button　continued　to　walk　slowly　back。　　The
  riata　remained　taut。　　The　noose　held。
  Brent　Palmer　fought　savagely；　even　then。　　He　kicked；　he　rolled
  over　and　over；　he　wrenched　violently　at　his　pinioned　arms；　he
  twisted　his　powerful　young　body　from　Senor　Johnson's　grasp　again
  and　again。　　But　it　was　no　use。　　In　less　than　a　minute　he　was
  bound　hard　and　fast。　　Button　promptly　slackened　the　rope。　　The
  dust　settled。　　The　noise　of　the　combat　died。　　Again　could　be
  heard　the　single　desert　bird　singing　against　the　dawn。
  CHAPTER　TWELVE
  IN　THE　ARROYO
  Senor　Johnson　quietly　approached　Estrella。　　The　girl　had；　during
  the　struggle；　gone　through　an　aimless　but　frantic　exhibition　of
  terror。　　Now　she　shrank　back；　her　eyes　staring　wildly；　her　hands
  behind　her；　ready　to　flop　again　over　the　brink　of　hysteria。
  〃What　are　you　going　to　do？〃　she　demanded；　her　voice　unnatural。
  She　received　no　reply。　　The　man　reached　out　and　took　her　by　the
  arm。
  And　then　at　once；　as　though　the　personal　contact　of　the　touch　had
  broken　through　the　last　crumb　of　numbness　with　which　shock　had
  overlaid　Buck　Johnson's　passions；　the　insanity　of　his　rage　broke
  out。　　He　twisted　her　violently　on　her　face；　knelt　on　her　back；
  and；　with　the　short　piece　of　hard　rope　the　cowboy　always　carries
  to　〃hog…tie〃　cattle；　he　lashed　her　wrists　together。　　Then　he
  arose　panting；　his　square　black　beard　rising　and　falling　with　the
  rise　and　fall　of　his　great　chest。
  Estrella　had　screamed　again　and　again　until　her　face　had　been
  fairly　ground　into　the　alkali。　　There　she　had　choked　and
  strangled　and　gasped　and　sobbed；　her　mind　nearly　unhinged　with
  terror。　　She　kept　appealing　to　him　in　a　hoarse　voice；　but　could
  get　no　reply；　no　indication　that　he　had　even　heard。　　This
  terrified　her　still　more。　　Brent　Palmer　cursed　steadily　and
  accurately；　but　the　man　did　not　seem　to　hear　him　either。
  The　tempest　bad　broken　in　Buck　Johnson's　soul。　　When　he　had
  touched　Estrella　he　had；　for　the　first　time；　realised　what　he　had
  lost。　　It　was　not　the　womanher　he　despised。　　But　the　dreams！
  All　at　once　he　knew　what　they　had　been　to　himhe　understood　how
  completely　the　very　substance　of　his　life　had　changed　in　response
  to　their　slow　soul…action。　　The　new　world　had　been　blastedthe
  old　no　longer　existed　to　which　to　return。
  Buck　Johnson　stared　at　this　catastrophe　until　his　sight　blurred。
  Why；　it　was　atrocious！　　He　had　done　nothing　to　deserve　it！　　Why
  had　they　not　left　him　peaceful　in　his　own　life　of　cattle　and　the
  trail？　　He　had　been　happy。　　His　dull　eyes　fell　on　the　causes　of
  the　ruin。
  And　then；　finally；　in　the　understanding　of　how　he　had　been
  tricked　of　his　life；　his　happiness；　his　right　to　well…being；　the
  whole　force　of　the　man's　anger　flared。　　Brent　Palmer　lay　there
  cursing　him　artistically。　　That　man　had　done　it；　that　man　was　in
  his　power。　　He　would　get　even。　　How？
  Estrella；　too；　lay　huddled；　helpless　and　defenseless；　at　his
  feet。　　She　had　done　it。　　He　would　get　even。　　How？
  He　had　spoken　no　word。　　He　spoke　none　now；　either　in　answer　to
  Estrella's　appeals；　becoming　piteous　in　their　craving　for　relief
  from　suspense；　or　in　response　to　Brent　Palmer's　steady　stream　of
  insults　and　vituperations。　　Such　things　were　far　below。　　The
  bitterness　and　anger　and　desolation　were　squeezing　his　heart。
  He　remembered　the　silly　little　row　of　potatoes　sewn　in　the　green
  hide　lying　along　the　top　of　the　adobe　fence；　some　fresh　and
  round；　some　dripping　as　the　rawhide　contracted；　some　black　and
  withered　and　very　small。　　A　fierce　and　savage　light　sprang　into
  his　eyes。
  CHAPTER　THIRTEEN
  THE　RAWHIDE
  First　of　all　he　unhitched　the　horses　from　the　buckboard　and
  turned　them　loose。　　Then；　since　he　was　early　trained　in　Indian
  warfare；　he　dragged　Palmer　to　the　wagon　wheel；　and　tied　him　so
  closely　to　it　that　he　could　not　roll　over。　　For；　though　the
  bronco…buster　was　already　so　fettered　that　his　only　possible
  movement　was　of　the　jack…knife　variety；　nevertheless　he　might　be
  able　to　hitch　himself　along　the　ground　to　a　sharp　stone；　there　to
  saw　through　the　rope　about　his　wrists。　　Estrella；　her　husband
  held　in　contempt。　　He　merely　supplemented　her　wrist　bands　by　one
  about　the　ankles。
  Leisurely　he　mounted　Button　and　turned　up　the　wagon　trail；
  leaving　the　two。　　Estrella　had　exhausted　herself。　　She　was
  capable　of　nothing　more　in　the　way　of　emotion。　　Her　eyes　tight
  closed；　she　inhaled　in　deep；　trembling；　long…drawn　breaths；　and
  exhaled　with　the　name　of　her　Maker。
  Brent　Palmer；　on　the　contrary；　was　by　no　means　subdued。　　He　had
  expected　to　be　shot　in　cold　blood。　　Now　he　did　not　know　what　to
  anticipate。　　His　black；　level　brows　drawn　straight　in　defiance；
  he　threw　his　curses　after　Johnson's　retreating　figure。
  The　latter；　however；　paid　no　attention。　　He　had　his　purposes。
  Once　at　the　top　of　the　arroyo　he　took　a　careful　survey　of　the
  landscape；　now　rich　with　dawn。　　Each　excrescence　on　the　plain　his
  half…squinted　eyes　noticed；　and　with　instant　skill　relegated　to
  its　proper　category　of　soap…weed；　mesquite；　cactus。　　At　length　he
  swung　Button　in　an　easy　lope　toward　what　looked　to　be　a　bunch　of
  soap…weed　in　the　middle　distance。
  But　in　a　moment　the　cattle　could　be　seen　plainly。　　Button　pricked
  up　his　ears。　　He　knew　cattle。　　Now　he　proceeded　tentatively；
  lifting　high　his　little　hoofs　to　avoid　the　half…seen　inequalities
  of　the　ground　and　the　ground's　growths；　wondering　whether　he　were
  to　be　called　on　to　rope　or　to　drive。　　When　the　rider　had
  approached　to　within　a　hundred　feet；　the　cattle　started。
  Immediately　Button　understood　that　he　was　to　pursue。　　No　rope
  swung　above　his　head；　so　he　sheered　off　and　ran　as　fast　as　he
  could　to　cut　ahead　of　the　bunch。　　But　his　rider　with　knee　and
  rein　forced　him　in。　　After　a　moment；　to　his　astonishment；　he
  found　himself　running　alongside　a　big　steer。　　Button　had　never
  hunted　buffaloBuck　Johnson　had。
  The　Colt's　forty…five　barked　once；　and　then　again。　The　steer
  staggered；　fell　to　his　knees；　recovered；　and　finally　stopped；　the
  blood　streaming　from　his　nostrils。　　In　a　moment　he　fell　heavily
  on　his　sidedead。
  Senor　Johnson　at　once　dismounted　and　began　methodically　to　skin
  the　animal。　　This　was　not　easy　for　he　had　no　way　of　suspending
  the　carcass　nor　of　rolling　it　from　side　to　side。　　However；　he　was
  practised　at　it　and　did　a　neat　job。　　Two　or　three　times　he　even
  caught　himself　taking　extra　pains　that　the　thin　flesh　strips
  should　not　adhere　to　the　inside　of　the　pelt。　　Then　he　smiled
  grimly；　and　ripped　it　loose。
  After　the　hide　had　been　removed　he　cut　from　the　edge；　around　and
  around；　a　long；　narrow　strip。　　With　this　he　bound　the　whole　into
  a　compact　bundle；　strapped　it　on　behind　his　saddle；　and
  remounted。　　He　returned　to　the　arroyo。
  Estrella　still　lay　with　her　eyes　closed。　　Brent　Palmer　looked　up
  keenly。　　The　bronco…buster　saw　the　green　hide。　　A　puzzled
  expression　crept　across　his　face。
  Roughly　Johnson　loosed　his　enemy　from　the　wheel　and　dragged　him
  to　the　woman。　　He　passed　the　free　end　of　the　riata　about　them
  both；　tying　them　close　together。　　The　girl　continued　to　moan；　out
  of　her　wits　with　terror。
  〃What　are　you　going　to　do　now；　you　devil？〃　demanded　Palmer；　but
  received　no　reply。
  Buck　Johnson　spread　out　the　rawhide。　　Putting　forth　his　huge
  strength；　he　carried　to　it　the　pair；　bound　together　like　a　bale
  of　goods；　and　laid　them　on　its　cool　surface。　　He　threw　across
  them　the　edges；　and　then　deliberately　began　to　wind　around　and
  around　the　huge　and　unwieldy　rawhide　package　the　strip　he　had　cut
  from　the　edge　of　the　pelt。
  Nor　was　this　altogether　easy。　　At　last　Brent　Palmer　understood。
  He　writhed　in　the　struggle　of　desperation；　foaming　blasphemies。
  The　uncouth　bundle　rolled　here　and　there。