"They're ce'tainly crowding us.I expaict I better send them a 'How-de- do?' so as to discourage them a few." He took as careful aim as he could on the galloping horse, but his bullet went wide.
"They're gaining like sixty.It's my offhand opinion we better stop atthat bunch of trees and argue some with them.No use buck-jumpin' along to burn the wind while they drill streaks of light through us.""All right.Take the trees.Y'u'll be able to get into the game some then."They debouched from the road to the little grove and slipped from their horses.
"Deader'n hell," murmured Missou, as he lifted the limp body from his horse." But I guess we'll pack what's left back to the little lady at the Lazy D."The leader of the pursuers halted his men just out of range and came forward alone, holding his right hand up in the usual signal of peace.In appearance he was not unlike Ned Bannister.There was the same long, slim, tiger build, with the flowing muscles rippling easily beneath the loose shirt; the same effect of power and dominance, the same clean, springy stride.The pose of the head, too, even the sweep of salient jaw, bore a marked resemblance.But similarity ceased at the expression.For instead of frankness there lurked here that hint of the devil of strong passion uncontrolled.He was the victim of his own moods, and in the space of an hour one might, perhaps, read in that face cold cunning, cruel malignity, leering ribaldry, as well as the hard-bitten virtues of unflinching courage and implacable purpose.
"I reckon you're near enough," suggested Mac, when the man had approached to within a hundred feet of the tree clump.
"Y'u're drawing the dead-line," the other acknowledged, indolently."It won't take ten words to tell y'u what I want and mean to have.I'm giving y'u two minutes to hand me over the body of Ned Bannister.If y'u don't see it that way I'll come and make a lead mine of your whole outfit.""Y'u can't come too quick, seh.We're here a-shootin', and don't y'u forget it," was McWilliams's prompt answer.
The sinister face of the man from the Shoshones darkened."Y'u've signed your own death warrants," he let out through set teeth, and at the word swung on his heel.
"The ball's about to open.Pardners for a waltz.Have a dust-cutter, Mac, before she grows warm."The puncher handed over his flask, and the other held it before his eye and appraised the contents in approved fashion." Don't mind if I do.Here's how!""How!" echoed Missou, in turn, and tipped up the bottle till the liquor gurgled down his baked throat.
"He's fanning out his men so as to, get us both at the front and back door.Lucky there ain't but four of them.""I guess we better lie back to back," proposed Missou."If our luck's good I reckon they're going to have a gay time rushing this fort."A few desultory shots had already been dropped among the cottonwoods, and returned by the defendants when Missou let out a yell of triumph.
"Glory Hallelujah! Here comes the boys splittin' down the road hell- for-leather.That lopsided, ring-tailed snorter of a hawss-thief is gathering his wolves for a hike back to the tall timber.Feed me a cigareet, Mac.I plumb want to celebrate."It was as the cow-puncher had said.Down the road a cloud of dust was sweeping toward them, in the centre of which they made out three hardriding cowboys from the ranch.Farther back, in the distance, was another dust whirl.The outlaw chief's hard, vigilant gaze swept over the reinforcements! and decided instantly that the game had gone against him for the present.He whistled shrilly twice, and began a slow retreat toward the hills.The miscreants flung a few defiant shots at the advancing cowmen, and disappeared, swallowed up in the earth swells.
The homeward march was a slow one, for Bannister had begun to show signs of consciousness and it was necessary to carry him with extreme care.While they were still a mile from the ranch house the pinto and its rider could be seen loping toward them.
"Ride forward, Denver, and tell Miss Helen we're coming.Better have her get everything fixed to doctor him soon as we get there.Give him the best show in the world, and he'll still be sailing awful close to the divide.I'll bet a hundred plunks he'll cash in, anyway.""DONE!"
The voice came faintly from the improvised litter.Mac turned with astart, for he had not known that Bannister was awake to his surroundings.The man appeared the picture of helplessness, all the lusty power and vigor stricken out of him; but his indomitable spirit still triumphed over the physical collapse, for as the foreman looked a faint smile touched the ashen lips.It seemed to say: "Still in the ring, old man."
