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The other riders accorded their wondering assent.
"Gone crazy, sure!"
"I always seen it comin'."
"Say, but ain't he wild? Foamin' at the mouth like a winded hoss!"
Young Creech was headed down the road toward the ford across which he had to
go to reach home. He saw the curious group, slowed his pace, and halted. His
face seemed convulsed with rage and pain and fatigue. His body, even to his
hands, was incased in a thick, heavy coating of red adobe that had caked hard.
"God's sake--fellers--" he panted, with eyes rolling, "take this--'dobe mud
off me! . . . I'm dyin'!"
Then he staggered into Brackton's place. A howl went up from the riders and
they surged after him.
That evening after supper Bostil stamped in the big room, roaring with
laughter, red in the face; and he astonished Lucy and her aunt to the point of
consternation.
"Now--you've--done--it--Lucy Bostil!" he roared.
"Oh dear! Oh dear!" exclaimed Aunt Jane.
"Done what?" asked Lucy, blankly.
Bostil conquered his paroxysm, and, wiping his moist red face, he eyed Lucy in
mock solemnity.


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