Vámonos, called the rider. He turned his horse The man with the pistol looked at them. Tengo que encontrar mi cuchillo, he called. He uncocked the pistol and went to shove it in his belt but he had no belt. He turned and looked upriver where the day was coming beyond the brambly river breaks. The breath of the standing horses plumed and vanished. The leader told him to get his horse. He said that he did not need his knife and that he had killed a good horse for no reason.
