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on her back； and； with the short piece of hard rope the cowboy always
carries to 〃hog…tie〃 cattle； he lashed her wrists together。 Then he arose
panting； his square black beard rising and falling with the rise and fall of
his great chest。
Estrella had screamed again and again until her face had been fairly
ground into the alkali。 There she had choked and strangled and gasped
and sobbed； her mind nearly unhinged with terror。 She kept appealing to
him in a hoarse voice； but could get no reply； no indication that he had
even heard。 This terrified her still more。 Brent Palmer cursed steadily
and accurately； but the man did not seem to hear him either。 The
tempest bad broken in Buck Johnson's soul。 When he had touched
Estrella he had； for the first time； realised what he had lost。 It was not
the womanher he despised。 But the dreams！ All at once he knew
what they had been to himhe understood how completely the very
substance of his life had changed in response to their slow soul…action。
The new world had been blastedthe old no longer existed to which to
return。 Buck Johnson stared at this catastrophe until his sight blurred。
Why； it was atrocious！ He had done nothing to deserve it！ Why had
they not left him peaceful in his own life of cattle and the trail？ He had
been happy。 His dull eyes fell on the causes of the ruin。
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And then； finally； in the understanding of how he had been tricked of
his life； his happiness； his right to well…being； the whole force of the man's
anger flared。 Brent Palmer lay there cursing him artistically。 That man
had done it； that man was in his power。 He would get even。 How？
Estrella； too； lay huddled； helpless and defenseless； at his feet。 She had
done it。 He would get even。 How？ He had spoken no word。 He
spoke none now； either in answer to Estrella's appeals； becoming piteous
in their craving for relief from suspense； or in response to Brent Palmer's
steady stream of insults and vituperations。 Such things were far below。
The bitterness and anger and desolation were squeezing his heart。 He
remembered the silly little row of potatoes sewn in the green hide lying
along the top of the adobe fence； some fresh and round； some dripping as
the rawhide contracted； some black and withered and very small。 A
fierce and savage light sprang into his eyes。
CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE RAWHIDE
First of all he unhitched the horses from the buckboard and turned
them loose。 Then； since he was early trained in Indian warfare； he
dragged Palmer to the wagon wheel； and tied him so closely to it that he
could not roll over。 For； though the bronco…buster was already so fettered
that his only possible movement was of the jack…knife variety；
nevertheless he might be able to hitch himself along the ground to a sharp
stone； there to saw through the rope about his wrists。 Estrella； her
husband held in contempt。 He merely supplemented her wrist bands by
one about the ankles。 Leisurely he mounted Button and turned up the
wagon trail； leaving the two。 Estrella had exhausted herself。 She was
capable of nothing more in the way of emotion。 Her eyes tight closed；
she inhaled in deep； trembling； long…drawn breaths； and exhaled with the
name of her Maker。 Brent Palmer； on the contrary； was by no means
subdued。 He had expected to be shot in cold blood。 Now he did not
know what to anticipate。 His black； level brows drawn straight in
defiance； he threw his curses after Johnson's retreating figure。 The
latter； however； paid no attention。 He had his purposes。 Once at the top
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of the arroyo he took a careful survey of the landscape； now rich with
dawn。 Each excrescence on the plain his half…squinted eyes noticed； and
with instant skill relegated to its proper category of soap…weed； mesquite；
cactus。 At length he swung Button in an easy lope toward what looked to
be a bunch of soap…weed in the middle distance。 But in a moment
the cattle could be seen plainly。 Button pricked up his ears。 He knew
cattle。 Now he proceeded tentatively； lifting high his little hoofs to avoid
the half…seen inequalities of the ground and the ground's growths；
wondering whether he were to be called on to rope or to drive。 When the
rider had approached to within a hundred feet； the cattle started。
Immediately Button understood that he was to pursue。 No rope swung
above his head； so he sheered off and ran as fast as he could to cut ahead
of the bunch。 But his rider with knee and rein forced him in。 After a
moment； to his astonishment； he found himself running alongside a big
steer。 Button had never hunted buffaloBuck Johnson had。
The Colt's forty…five barked once； and then again。 The steer staggered；
fell to his knees； recovered； and finally stopped； the blood streaming from
his nostrils。 In a moment he fell heavily on his sidedead。 Senor
Johnson at once dismounted and began methodically to skin the animal。
This was not easy for he had no way of suspending the carcass nor of
rolling it from side to side。 However； he was practised at it and did a
neat job。 Two or three times he even caught himself taking extra pains
that the thin flesh strips should not adhere to the inside of the pelt。 Then
he smiled grimly； and ripped it loose。 After the hide had been
removed he cut from the edge； around and around； a long； narrow strip。
With this he bound the whole into a compact bundle； strapped it on behind
his saddle； and remounted。 He returned to the arroyo。 Estrella still
lay with her eyes closed。 Brent Pa