OH, SHOOT! 



vigorous work in the open, and the fine, dry 

 air of Sonora is in itself a tonic. 



Outside of such fatalities as these, however, 

 I could learn of little that had occurred to 

 decimate the ranks of these warriors. Life 

 for them appears to be an ideal arrangement, 

 for when they tire of bloodshed, or become 

 financially straitened, or wear out the rifling 

 in their gun barrels, they may either join their 

 peaceful brethren in the Mexican towns, there 

 to rest, pitch quoits, and play cowboy pool 

 until the call of the wild again summons them 

 to the glad, free, careless life of the hills, or 

 they may ride boldly north across the border, 

 singing their folk songs and shooting at sign- 

 boards, there to mingle with their Arizona 

 brethren and to enjoy, so long as suits them, 

 the blessings of Uncle Sam's peace, protection, 

 and religious training. 



At Nogales, we obtained a wholly false idea 

 of our international boundary. At that point, 

 it is marked by a high, barbed-wire fence 

 which separates the American from the Mex- 

 ican town and runs up over the hills and out 

 of sight. That fence gave us a feeling of terri- 

 torial inviolability until we learned that a 

 short distance beyond the suburbs it peters 



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