"Buen," says he, and Colin and me withdrew.

"Now, my Scotch friend," says I, when we got out of hearin', "we are up against it, bang! It's all right for them Injuns to talk of how peaceful they are, but I'll bet you there ain't a bigot among 'em. If we don't slide down their gutter, they'll do us harm. How're we to decide who puts his neck in the lion's mouth?"

But old Colin wasn't listening to me. "They'll make me chief," says he. "I'm tired of herding sheep." His little grey eyes was shining.

"Well, you knock me every time," says I. "Do you mean you want to trot with them?"

"They stick together--they have a clan."

I got some excited. "Here, now," I says; "this lets me out of a good deal of trouble to have you take it this way, but all the same as I've drunk your whiskey and ate your bread, I'll stand at your back till your belt caves in. You pa.s.s this idea up--it's dangerous--and I'll make you a foolish proposition; you take the bagpipes and I'll take the sword and we will pa.s.s away to lively music. Darn my skin if I'll see a friend turned over to those tarriers and sit still."

"Heugh!" says he. "What's a man but a man? As safe with them as anywhere--and what do I care about safe? What's left me, anyhow? Will you watch the sheep till they send from the ranch?"

"Why, yes," says I. "But----"

He waved his hand and walked towards the Injuns. "Voy," says he.

"Hungh!" says they. "Bueno."

I laid my hand on his shoulder for one more try. Every brave picked up his gun and beaded me.

"Drop the guns!" says Colin Hiccup Grunt. And down went the guns.

You'd be surprised at his tone of voice; it meant, as plain as you could put it in words, "We will now put down the guns." Oh, yes, it meant it entirely. And he looked a foot taller. The change had done him good.

"Well," thinks I; "my boys, I reckon you've got your chief, and as there ain't another peek of light out of this business, I shelve my kick."

"Where is the senor's horse?" asks Colin.

"In the hills," says the Injun, before he thought.

"Bring it," says Colin.

"Ha!" says all the Injuns, and they sent a man for my mustang. That quick guess surprised the whole lot of us.

We went together to the cabin, to get his belongings and to cache the whiskey. If it come into our friend's heads to rummage we might have a poor evening of it.

"Leave me that sock as a momentum," says I.

"'Tain't finished," says he.

"Never mind. I want it to put under my pillow to dream on," and I have it yet.

One half-hour after that I sat in the doorway, scratching my head and thinkin'; whilst before my eyes marched off Colin Hiccup Grunt, Great Peace Chief of the Yumas, bare-legged and red-headed, with his wool hat on one side and his bagpipe squealin', at the head of his company. You won't see such a sight often, so I watched 'em out of eyeshot.

It chanced I was asleep inside when the rider came from the ranch, so when I stuck my head out to answer his hail, "Why," says he, "how you've changed!" He was surprised, that man.

"You ain't done nothing to old Scotty?" says he, looking cross.

"No," says I. "Hold your hand. He's gone off and joined the Injuns."

Then I up and told him the story.

"Hungh!" says he. "Well, that's just like him!"

THE END