THE CABALLERO'S WAYThe Cisco Kid had killed six men in more or less fair
scrimmages, had murdered twice as many (mostly Mexicans), and had
winged a larger number whom he modestly forbore to count. Therefore
a woman loved him.
The Kid was twenty-five, looked twenty; and a careful insurance
company would have estimated the probable time of his demise at,
say, twenty-six. His habitat was anywhere between the Frio and the
Rio Grande. He killed for the love of it—because he was
quick-tempered— to avoid arrest—for his own amusement—any reason
that came to his mind would suffice. He had escaped capture because
he could shoot five-sixths of a second sooner than any sheriff or
ranger in the service, and because he rode a speckled roan horse
that knew every cow-path in the mesquite and p
