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He was a good-looking boy, although now his face was burned and grimy, and his clothing rough. He stood a little taller than Davy, but he was slender and wiry. He had brown hair and dark brown eyes and regular features; and under his grime and tan his skin was smooth. He was dressed just like the men, and carried himself like a man; but the muzzle of the long heavy yager extended above his hat-brim. Evidently his two companions thought highly of him, and so did the men of the wagon train.

“Some of you tend to Woods’ shoulder; then if you’ll hustle a little grub we’ll be ready for it,” quoth the man called Lew. “Those mule carcasses served a good purpose but they weren’t very appetizing.”

“First of all, I want a drink,” announced the man called Woods.

Prompt hands passed forward canteens, and Billy and the two men took long, hearty swigs of water.

“Arrow wasn’t pizened, was it?” queried several voices, of Mr. Woods.

“No. Lew looked at it, and said not. So he put a hunk o’ tobacco on it, and we haven’t paid much more attention to it,” answered Mr. Woods. “But it’s powerful sore.”