Law followed them with his eyes.  “Is he dead?” he inquired, coldly.

“God!  Yes.”

“Right in the mouth!  The fellow was in hell before he realized it.”

“See!  It is as we thought, Pedro; one of Lewis’s!  Tse!  Tse!  Tse!  What a sight!”

“Who is he?” queried the officer.

“Pino Garza, one of the worst!” chimed the two Guzmans.

Ricardo was dancing in his excitement.  “I told you that Lewis knew something.  The other one got past me, but he rode like the devil, and I cannot shoot like—­this.”

“Wait!” exclaimed Pedro.  “This is beyond my understanding.  I heard but one shot from here, then after an instant my father’s gun.  And yet here is a dead horse and a dead man.”

“This fellow and I fired at about the same instant,” Dave explained, but even when he had related the history of the encounter his companions could scarcely believe that such quick shooting was possible.

It was difficult to secure a connected story from Ricardo, but he finally made it plain that at the first report the other thief had fled, exposing himself only long enough for the old man to take a quick shot in his direction.  Ricardo had missed, and the miscreant was doubtless well away by this time.  He had ridden a sorrel horse, that was all Ricardo could remember.

Law looked only briefly at the gruesome results of his marksmanship, then he turned back to the body of his beloved mare.  Ricardo noticed at length that he was crying; as the Ranger knelt beside the dead thoroughbred the old Mexican whispered to his son: 

“Valgame Dios!  This is a strange fellow.  He weeps like a woman.  He must have loved that horse as a man loves his wife.  Who can understand these Gringos?” After a time he approached cautiously and inquired:  “What shall we do with this hombre, senor?  Pedro has found his horse.”

Law roused himself.  With his own hands he gently removed Bessie Belle’s saddle, bridle, and blanket, then he gave his orders.

“I’ll take your horse, Ricardo, and you take—­that fellow’s.  Get a wagon and move him to Jonesville.”

“And you?”

“I’m going to follow that man on the sorrel.”

The dead man’s saddle was left beside the body; then when the exchange of mounts had been effected and all was ready, Law made a request that amazed both father and son.

“If I’m not back by morning, I want you to bury my mare.”  His voice broke; he turned away his face.  “Bury her deep, Ricardo, so--the coyotes can’t dig her up; right here where she fell.  I’ll be back to see that it’s done right.  Understand?”

“Bueno!  I understand perfectly.  She was a pretty horse.  She was your—­bonita, eh?  Well, you have a big heart, senor, as a brave man should have.  Everything shall be done as you wish; I give you my hand on it.”  Ricardo reached down and gripped Law’s palm.  “We will name our pasture for her, too, because it is plain you loved her dearly.  So, then, until to-morrow.”