On the plantation he had not seemed different from the other negroes, except when on horseback. Here he appeared to be in his element and the laziness of a cotton-picker had departed. He wore boots and overalls. There was a gun belted around his lean hips. When he swung an ax and carried the heavy picks his splendid physique showed to advantage. He whistled as he worked, and like Mauree had fallen happily into this new way of life.

Presently Terrill’s father came to her, carrying the Henry rifle.

“Rill, from now on you pack this on your hoss, in the wagon, by your bed, and everywhere.”

“But, Dad, I’m afraid of the darned thing,” expostulated Terrill.

Colonel Lambeth laughed, but he was inexorable. “Rill, farther west we’ll hit the badlands. Indians, outlaws, bandits, Mexicans! And we may have to fight for our lives. Red Turner has been across the Pecos. He told me today what a wild country it was. Cattle by the thousand and just beginnin’ to be worth somethin’. … So come out and practice a little. Stuff a towel inside your shirt aboot where the gun kicks your shoulder.”

Terrill accompanied Lambeth down to the river bank, where he directed Terrill how to load, hold, aim, and fire the big Henry. Terrill had to grit her teeth, nevertheless there was a zest in the thing her father insisted upon—that she fill the boots of a son for him. Five shots from a rest she fired, squeezing the rifle with all her might. The first shot was not so terrible, after all, but the bullet flew wide of the target. She did better on the second and third. And the last two she hit the black across the river, to her father’s sober satisfaction. How seriously he took all this! It was no game to him.

“Sambo will clean the rifle for you,” he said. “But that you should learn also. Familiarize yourself with the gun. Get used to handlin’ it. Aim often at things without shootin’. You can learn to shoot as well that way without wastin’ too many bullets.”

Hudkins returned with the hump of a buffalo, from which were cut the steaks these hunters praised so much. Lambeth appeared as greedy as any of them. They made merry. Some one produced a jug of liquor which went the rounds. For a moment Terrill’s heart stood still. She feared her father might ask her to take a drink. But he did not overstep the bounds of reason in his obsession to see in Terrill a son.

“Sonny, how you like rump steak?” asked Hudkins, merrily, of Terrill.

“It’s got a kind of wild flavor,” replied Terrill.