in a fog, speakin' mental, an' about bled to death; while them exhortin' people is outen their minds entire.
"In no time thar's a dozen of us lined out for Cherokee. Do we locate him? Which I should say we shorely discovers him. Thar's a bullet through his laig, an' thar he is with his back ag'in a rock wall, his Winchester to the front, his eyes glitterin', a-holdin' the canyon. Thar never is no Injun gets by him. Of course they stampedes prompt when they hears us a-comin', so we don't get no fight.
"'I hopes you nails one, Cherokee,' says Enright; 'playin' even on this yere laig they shoots.'
"'I win once, I reckons', says Cherokee, 'over behind that big rock to the left.'
"'Shore enough he's got one Injun spread out; an', comin' along a little, Jack Moore turns up a second.
"'Yere's another,' says Jack, 'which breaks even on the bullet in Texas.'
"'That's right,' says Cherokee, 'I remembers now than is two. The kyards is comin' some Tast, an' I overlooks a bet.'
"We-alls gets Cherokee in all right, an' next day 'round comes the female tenderfoot to see him.
"'I wants to thank my defender,' she says.
"'You ain't onder no obligations, whatever, ma'am', says Cherokee, risin' up a little, while
