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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。