fresh horses and rode away.  The visitors seemed in no hurry to go, so Uncle Lance sat around camp entertaining them, while the rest of us proceeded with our work of baling.  Before leaving, however, the entire party in company of our employer took a stroll about the hide yard, which was some distance from camp.  During this tour of inspection, Annear asked which were the bales of outside hides taken in Deweese’s division, claiming he represented a number of brands outside of Las Norias.  The bales were pointed out and some dozen unbaled hides looked over.  On a count the baled and unbaled hides were found to tally exactly with the list submitted.  But unfortunately Annear took occasion to insinuate that the list of brands rendered had been “doctored.”  Uncle Lance paid little attention, though he heard, but the other visitors remonstrated with Annear.  This only seemed to make him more contentious.  Finally matters came to an open rupture when Annear demanded that the cordage be cut on certain bales to allow him to inspect them.  Possibly he was within his rights, but on the Nueces during the seventies, to question a man’s word was equivalent to calling him a liar; and liar was a fighting word all over the cattle range.

“Well, Henry,” said Uncle Lance, rather firmly, “if you are not satisfied, I suppose I’ll have to open the bales for you, but before I do, I’m going to send after June.  Neither you nor any one else can cast any reflections on a man in my employ.  No unjust act can be charged in my presence against an absent man.  The vaqueros tell me that my foreman is only around the bend of the river, and I’m going to ask all you gentlemen to remain until I can send for him.”

John Cotton was dispatched after Deweese.  Conversation meanwhile became polite and changed to other subjects.  Those of us at work baling hides went ahead as if nothing unusual was on the tapis.  The visitors were all armed, which was nothing unusual, for the wearing of six-shooters was as common as the wearing of hoots.  During the interim, several level-headed visitors took Henry Annear to one side, evidently to reason with him and urge an apology, for they could readily see that Uncle Lance was justly offended.  But it seemed that Annear would listen to no one, and while they were yet conversing among themselves, John Cotton and our foreman galloped around the bend of the river and rode up to the yard.  No doubt Cotton had explained the situation, but as they dismounted Uncle Lance stepped between his foreman and Annear, saying:—­

“June, Henry, here, questions the honesty of your list of strays killed, and insists on our cutting the bales for his inspection.”  Turning to Annear, Uncle Lance inquired, “Do you still insist on opening the bales?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

Deweese stepped to one side of his employer, saying to Annear:  “You offer to cut a bale here to-day, and I’ll cut your heart out.  Behind my back, you questioned my word.  Question it to my face, you dirty sneak.”