"Look out for him, boys! Don't go near him; he's like a grizzly bear; likely to be playing possum." Hugh watched the man with a wary eye, and was not surprised to see him after a moment raise himself on one elbow and feel about over the ground, in the effort to recover the pistol which he had dropped. Hugh had seen it fall, and knowing the man's quickness with the pistol, watched him carefully. In a moment, however, the man sank back and seemed to be breathing hard, and Hugh called to the boys:

"Watch him, now, and I'll step up to him and get that gun; I'll be ready for him if he moves."

Hugh stepped carefully but quickly forward, with his gun ready, and had almost reached the man, when he moved slightly, and Hugh sprang swiftly to one side, as the pistol was discharged without being raised. In a moment Hugh was on the man, and had taken the arm from him and thrown it to one side.

Dowling was badly wounded, and it was evident he could not live long. When his pistols had been secured they did what they could to make him comfortable. Joe went to the river and brought water in his hat, and after a little, Dowling opened his eyes and spoke.

"Well, you've got me," he said; "I was in hopes I'd get you. I couldn't stand it to have those horses taken, but I wish you'd taken this one, instead of leaving it for me to ride. However, we made a good try to get the stock, and we would have got it if it hadn't been for you. Where did you come from? We never saw anything of you."

"We were just travelling down the river," said Hugh, "and saw the tracks, and I knew there wasn't any reason for a bunch of horses to be driven through this country; so I went back to look up and see what it meant, and I found that you'd got our horses."

"Well," said Dowling, "a fool for luck! Anybody else coming through the country wouldn't have paid any attention to that horse trail, but you just had to do it.

"I reckon I've got it," he went on; "and I expect it's about time too, but I hate almightily to be downed by an old man. I'd a heap sight rather have had one of them young fellows kill me."

"Well," said Hugh, "I expect when a man's time comes, it don't make much difference how he gets killed."

"No," said Dowling, "I expect maybe it don't. I always allowed I die with my boots on, anyhow, and here I am."

During the few moments that had elapsed since he had received his wound his voice had grown much weaker. He was not bleeding much, but Hugh shook his head as he looked at the wound.

"Have some more water, Dowling?" he said.

"Yes, a little," said Dowling; but as Hugh raised him up to drink, he began to choke, and in a moment, after a shudder or two, lay dead.

"Well, boys," said Hugh, "we've got to bury him, and then move along. Suppose you two go over onto the edge of that bluff and scrape away the clay, as much as you can with your knives, and I'll bring the body over, and put his saddle-blanket over him, and we'll cover him up."

It had all happened so quickly, and there had been so much excitement about it, that Jack hardly understood or realized what had happened. He and Joe walked over to the bluff, and scraping away the soft yellow clay, soon made a place six or eight feet long, and presently Hugh came over, carrying the man on his shoulder, and they laid him in his shallow grave. Hugh took off his belt, and looked through his pockets to see if he had any papers by which he might be identified, but found none. They covered him with the earth, and brought flat stones that had fallen down from the top of the bluff, and piled them upon the grave, to protect it from the wolves.

Then Hugh went back, and picking up the two pistols that Dowling had dropped, shoved them in the holsters, and holding out the belt to Jack, he said, "You want to wear this, son?"

"Why, yes, Hugh, I'd like to have it to remember this day by, though there are some things that I don't much care to remember."

"Well," said Hugh, "this is the way things used to be in the far west, but I thought we'd about got through with it by this time. However, some of the old spirit seems to crop out now and then."

They mounted, and started the herd along again. They had not gone far before Hugh said, "I want you boys to drive these animals on three or four miles down the creek, and leave them there; but cut out the pack horses, and we'll camp right here."

Camp was made in a bunch of cottonwood brush, but the lodge was not put up. The pack horses were hobbled, and then the boys drove the loose horses some distance further down the stream, and returning found the camp dark, but supper ready.

"I thought," said Hugh, "that there was just a chance that those two other fellows might follow us down and try to take some of the horses back again; so we had better stop here, without any fire, and with the horses kept close, and make an early start in the morning."

Hugh had them up long before day. They built no fire, but ate some dried meat, and started on. The tired horses were found just where they had been left, were pushed along at a good gait all day and crossed the Platte; and the next night they drove them into Mr. Sturgis' ranch to the great astonishment of all there, and later of Powell, and the other men from whom horses had been stolen.

Great was the credit received by all three of those who had brought back the stolen horses. Mr. Sturgis gave to Jack and Joe each three good riding animals; and to this day Jack talks of the only horse stealing expedition he was ever on.