The progressive farmer. [volume] (Winston, N.C.) 1886-1904, 1895-06-11
IN THE FACE OF DEATH
BY T. 7. F. ORDWAY.

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say sol"
"And I say the horse is mine and III
ride him without asking your leave, o.
anybody else's."
The two men faced each other with
lowering brows and defiant looks
when a small quiet looking man limpe6
forward and i~nterposed.
Come, now, drop this foolishness
If l hear another word about that mus
tang I'll shoot him, and end the fuss.
I'm captain of this outfit, and as long
as I am there's got to be peace in the
family /"
There was a ring of authority in his
voice, and a fash in his blue eyes that
showed him to be a natural comman-
der, and one not to be trifed with. The
two angry men stood sullenly silent,
while he went on more genially:
Come, shake hands and call it a
draw; at any rate till we get out of
here. 1 cant have the two best men
in the outfit quarrelling! You can't
either of you ri0e the horse now, any
way, and from the way things look it
is a mighty slim chance whether you
ever will. If you're spelling for afght
those redskins out yonder will accomo-
date you, at the drop Of a haiti Come,
drop it, I say, and shake hands like
men,"
But the two ~beligerants looked
scowlingly at each other and then at
Clay. His influence was too great to
permit of a continuance of the quarrel
in his presence, but instead of shaking
hands they turned and strobe sulkily
away.
They had trapped, hunted, starved,
reveled, dug gold and fought Indians
together for years. Each had more
than once risked his life for the other,
in the same matter of fact way in
which he would have handed him his
pouch of tobacco.
When Sam Finch had been stricken
by smallpox in a Crow village, and all
the Indians who were not yet attacked
had fed in terrified haste, Tom Collins
had stayed, and for six long weeks
waged his solitary fight with death
his only companion the snarling
coyotes and the heavy winged buz
yards, his only rest the few brief mo-
ments he could snatch when the rag
ing delirium of his patient was over
come by bodily exhaustion; till at last
the sick man crept feebIy back to life,
and could be taken by his devoted
nurse to where more efficient, though
not tenderer, care and help could be
given.
And now these two were as bitter in
feud as they had been close in friend
ship. The question at issue was the
ownership of a grand black stallion
that had been lassoed while leading his
wild herd on the plains between the
Mogollones and the Colorado Chiquita.
His neck had first been encircled by
Collins lasso, but the tough hide of the
lariat had been gnaWed by a coyote, so
that it broke when the wild horse
plunged. Before he could thunder
away, the lasso of Finch held him.
My horseI' said Finch.
Il stopped him." said Collins.
He'd have got away without me,
for your lasso broke" cried Finch; and
so the quarrel began. At first they
spoke laughingly, then angrily, till
things were said on both sides that
neither man thought he could ever for
give. Meantime the black, which had
been broken to saddle in one days
rough riding, was used by none of the
prospecting party.
AS the disputants strobe away Clay
muttered to himself:
Queer what fools men will make of
themselves! The idea Of those two
men quarreling about a horse when the
chances are a thousand to one that
their scalps will both be futtering at
the end Of Apache lances within "a
hoursl"
The sun was about an hour high and
the wide, level mesa glowed and quiv-
cred in the heat. North, south, east,
west, wherever Clay looked, he saw
the Gordon of Apaches. S5me sat on
their ponies like grim statues, some
were stretched on the ground asleep,
some gRlloped down the little canon
for water, but all waited quietly for
the time when their grim allies, heat,
thirst and exhaustion, should deliver
the p~rospectors into their hands.
These were a party of twelve strong
men who had started from Taos three
Il WHAkn nonlInn nnAl--