"I got rid o' him," he said, but he was mistaken, for the other fellow, by this time, had also reached the depot.
Walking up close to the cop, he leered:
"Do you think I'm afraid of you?" and then another fight, even rougher than the other, began.
It was at this juncture, unobserved, I slipped into the coke car.
Within a short time after leaving Dalhart we crossed the State line into New Mexico.
CHAPTER VI.
Across the Line into New Mexico—Barren Sand Hills—Jack Rabbits—Prairie Dogs—A Glorious Sunset, etc.
The train had now entered a country that is simply indescribable for its bleak barrenness.