Part 25 (2/2)

”Look at that!” cried Yellin' Kid.

It was evident that something must be done. It called for another division of the defending force, now somewhat reduced in numbers because of injuries. But the crossing of the sheep had to be stopped, as well as the pa.s.sage of the armed men.

And, after a hard struggle, this was accomplished. The sheep were the easier driven back, for the animals were soon frightened and thrown into confusion. But the Mexicans themselves were desperate, and some of them even succeeded in reaching the opposite sh.o.r.e, setting their horses on Mr. Merkel's land.

However, there was a fierce rally against them on the part of the cowboys and they were driven back.

This was not without desperate work, however, and several on each side suffered minor injuries. The trouble was that the cowboys held their enemies too lightly. It was easy, and perhaps natural, for them to despise the sheep herders.

But, after all, these were men, and rough and ready men at that. They had something to fight for--their lives and their charges, and to lose one was to endanger the other. So, for a time it looked, as Bud said afterward, ”like touch and go,” so near was the tide of battle to turning against the cowboys.

Both sides were now pretty well exhausted, but the disadvantage of having to cross the stream still hampered the Greasers. They must have felt this, for after another consultation among themselves something new and unexpected happened.

A lone rider was seen to separate himself from the hated band on the Mexican side of the creek, and he slowly approached the ford.

”Watch him!” cried Billee, who had picked up his hat with a hole in the brim.

”He's up to some trick!” declared Bud.

”Shouldn't wonder, son,” agreed Billee.

A moment later they saw what the ”trick” was, if such it could be called. From under his coat the man produced a white flag and waved it vigorously toward the boy ranchers and their friends.

”A truce!” cried Bud. ”Guess they've had enough!”

CHAPTER XXI

A LEGAL CONTEST

Holding the flag of truce above his head with both hands, the better to indicate that he was unarmed, the man, a bearded Mexican to all appearances, rode his horse half way across the stream. He was then within easy talking distance of the cowboys and Old Billee called:

”That's far enough, Greaser! Stay right where you are and speak your little piece. Keep him covered, boys,” he went on in a low voice to those around him.

”Oh, he's covered all right,” replied Bud. And, indeed, half a dozen guns were trained, more or less conspicuously, on the bearer of the flag of truce.

”Well, say what you've got to say,” ordered Billee grimly.

”_Senors_, we have had enough of fight--for the time,” came from the herald.

And at the sound of his voice the boy ranchers, with one accord, exclaimed:

”Del Pinzo!”

”At your service, _senors_,” came the mocking retort, and Del Pinzo, for he it was, smiled, showing his white teeth through his black, curling beard. It was the beard which had prevented his recognition up to now. Though there was something vaguely familiar about the actions of the leader of the sheep men. And he who bore the flag of truce--Del Pinzo no less--had been the leader in the attempts to cross the creek.

”Well, what do you want?” demanded Billee. ”We might have known it was some of your dirty work, though I must say you've got a pretty good false face on with all them whiskers. What do you want?”

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