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 wrong in coming in here and poisoning our herds," said Duncan. "Well, boys, I suppose we might as well go back."

"Here," Winch called to the Texans who were riding away—"this man belongs to your outfit, I guess."

The Texans turned. "Which?" the spokesman asked.

"This man," said Winch, pointing to Hartwell—"I guess he strayed away from your bunch. Take him along with you if you want him."

"If that's a Kansas joke," said the Texan, in marked contempt, "it's a damn poor brand!"

They rode on with the bearing of men who believed some kind of a trick had been attempted on them, which was a reflection on their common human understanding. Now and then one of them looked back, face eloquent of the disdain in which such clumsy performers were held.

This denial of Texas by the enemy did not appear to lift him any higher in the esteem of his companions. He believed that Winch had said that of him for the mere purpose of adding to his humiliation, or in the hope of forcing a fight.

This he was determined for the present to keep clear of. He knew that it would be harder every hour to bear the indignities which they would heap on him, the insults which they would offer; but he