"Now is the time to fight as the old ones fought," he said. "The old ones had no trouble killing Texans with our own weapons. It was only when we first tried to use guns that we lost battles to the Texans. The old ones believed in the power of their weapons. They fought so hard that they made the Texans run back down the rivers. We took their women and made their children captives. The Mexicans feared us worse than they feared their own deaths. Leave your guns here and let us make war like the old ones made it." At that point old Yellow Foot pushed through the crowd and put his musket on the ground. The musket looked even older than Yellow Foot, one of the oldest warriors to come on the raid. He had wrapped buffalo sinew around the gun so that the barrel would not jump off the stock when he shot at something. It was such a bad gun that no one wanted to stand near Yellow Foot when he shot it, for fear that it might do more damage to them than to whatever Yellow Foot was shooting at.

Nevertheless, Yellow Foot was very proud of his gun and wasted many bullets shooting at game that was too far away to hit. Twice he had killed young horses because his vision was poor and he mistook them for deer. Buffalo Hump was pleased when he saw the old warrior come forward.

Though a little crazy, Yellow Foot was much respected in the tribe because he had had over a dozen wives in his life and was known to be an expert on how to give women such extreme pleasure that they would remain jolly for weeks and not complain as other women did.

"I am leaving my gun," Yellow Foot said. "I don't want to smell all that gun grease anymore." All the older warriors soon followed Yellow Foot's example and put their guns in a pile. Buffalo Hump said no more, but he did not move or look away, either. He looked from warrior to warrior, making them face and accept his command or else reject it in front of everybody. In the end only one warrior, a small, irritable man named Red Cat, refused to put his weapon on what had become a great pile. Though Blue Duck was almost the last man to lay his gun on the pile, he did finally put it there. Red Cat, who was indifferent to what any chief thought, kept his rifle.

Buffalo Hump did not want to make too big an issue of one gun.

"If you are going to keep that smelly gun, then raid far to the west, where the Brazos starts," he asked. "If there are any Texans out that way, you can shoot them. I don't think there are any bluecoats out there to hear you." Red Cat made no answer, but he thought it was stupid of old Buffalo Hump to leave behind so many guns. He meant, when he had time, to slip back to where the guns were and pick out a new rifle for himself.

When Famous Shoes saw that the tracks of the Buffalo Horse were going straight into the Sierra Perdida, he sat down on a rock to think about it. Scull was studying a small cactus, for reasons Famous Shoes could not fathom. Very often Scull would notice a plant he was not familiar withand would stop and study it for many minutes, sometimes even sketching it in a small notebook he carried. Sometimes he would ask Famous Shoes about the plant, but often it would be a plant Famous Shoes had no use forand knew little about. Some plants were useful and many were very useful, yielding up medicines or food or, as in the case of some cactus buds, yielding up important visions. But, as with people, some plants were completely useless. When Scull stopped for a long stretch to examine some fossil in the rocks or some useless plant, Famous Shoes grew impatient.

Now he was very impatient. The little cactus Scull was studying was of no interest at all--all anyone needed to know about it was that its thorns were painful if they stuck you. Now the situation they faced was apt to be far more painful than the thorns of any cactus. They were near the country of Ahumado, the Black Vaquero, a man who had wounded Scull once and who would do worse than wound him if he took him prisoner. Scull needed to recognize that their situation was perilous. Under such circumstances, studying a cactus was not the proper behaviour for a captain.

When Scull finally came over to where he sat, Famous Shoes pointed at the mountains.

"Kicking Wolf has taken your horse into the Sierra," he said. "Three Birds is still with him, but Three Birds does not want to go into the Sierra very much." "I doubt that he does, but how can you tell that from a track?" Scull asked.

"I can't tell it from the tracks," Famous Shoes said. "I can tell it because I know Three Birds and he is not crazy. Only a crazy man would ride into the country of Ahumado." "That qualifies me for the asylum, then, I guess," Scull said. "I went there once and got shot for my trouble and now I'm going again." "Some of the mexicanos think Ahumado has lived forever," Famous Shoes said.

"Well, they're a superstitious people," Scull said. "I expect they have too many gods to worry about. The good thing about the Christian religion, if you subscribe to it, is that you only have to worry about the wrath of one God." Famous Shoes didn't respond. Often he could only understand a small fraction of what Scull was talking about, and that fraction was of little interest. What he had just said made him seem a fool. No intelligent man would walk the earth long without realizing that there were many gods to fear.

There was a god in the sun and in the floor, a god in the ice and in the lightning, not to mention the many gods who took their nature from animals: the bear god, the lizard god, and so on. The old ones believed that when eagles screamed they were calling out the name of the eagle god.

He thought that Scull would do well not to criticize Ahumado's gods, either--even if the Black Vaquero hadn't lived forever, he had certainly lived a long time. Men did not live to a great age in dangerous country without cleverness in placating the various gods they had to deal with.

"We are in Ahumado's country now," Famous Shoes said. "He may show up tomorrow. I don't know." "Well, Kicking Wolf's ahead of us with my horse," Scull said. "If he does show up he'll have to take care of Kicking Wolf first." "Ahumado is always behind you," Famous Shoes said. "That is his way. These mountains are his home. He knows trails that even the rabbit and the cougar have forgotten. If we go into his country he will be behind us." Inish Scull thought the matter over for a moment.

The mountains were blue in the distance, dotted with shadows. The way into them was narrow and craggy, he remembered that from his first assault. He picked up a small stick and began to draw figures in the dirt, geometric figures. He drew squares and rectangles, with now and then a triangle.

Famous Shoes watched him draw the figures. He wondered if they were symbols having to do with the angry Christian God. In Austin Scull sometimes preached sermons--he preached from the platform of the gallows that stood behind the jail. Many people gathered to hear Scull preach-- white people, Indians, mexicanos. Many of them could not understand Scull's ^ws, but they listened anyway. Scull would roar and stomp when he preached; he behaved like a powerful medicine man.