“I’m looking for Tom Emery,” he said, raising his voice in order to warn Sagebrush, whose proximity was evidently unsuspected. “Oh, looking for Tom, are you?” Jimson sneered. “On what business?” “That’s for him to hear,” returned Ramsay. “Sidewinder told me to camp here until morning. You’re Jimson, I s’pose?” The other was momentarily astonished. “What! Sidewinder sent you here, did he? Where’s Mesquite?” “Gone to jail in Meteorite, I guess. That greaser with him was killed.” “What!” Jimson looked startled; then he frowned. “You’re a cussed liar! What’s this you’re pulling off, anyhow? Sidewinder would never have told you to wait out here before telling us all this. March over here—leave that rifle where it lays! Quick, now, or I’ll drill you!” The voices had risen shrill and distinct on the quiet air of the dawn, and had quite accomplished the purpose for which Ramsay hoped. Jimson caught a movement on the hillside from the corner of his eye, and turned—but his pistol did not swing quickly enough. The roar of a forty-five crashed out, then again. Gentleman Jimson, with a look of frightful astonishment, dropped his automatic, took two staggering steps, then slumped face down. Sagebrush, standing on the hillside to the right, emitted a whoop of exultation. “Ye will crowd me and my pardner, will ye? Reckon that’s one reward I’ll collect.” Suddenly his voice rose shrill. “Hey, Per-fesser! Look out—hosses comin’!” Ramsay, already scrambling for his rifle, heard the pounding of many hoofs and sprang up, wildly startled by that shrill cry. He saw, coming in upon him from the desert, a mass of horses. One glance at Sagebrush, and he caught sight of the latter staggering out of sight—then rifles cracked. A bullet sang past his head. With a leap, Ramsay darted toward his only protection, the hole in the wall. He jumped the motionless body of Jimson, turned, and began firing. The scream of a frantic horse answered his first shot; then bullets began to whang on the rock around him. He saw that a dozen or more horses were charging in, had a vision of two men firing; then he slipped back into the ten-foot passage, with the rush of animals at his very heels. As he ran for the other side, a curse broke from his lips. Sagebrush was shot down, and their whole scheme of action was disrupted. It was plain enough that two of the gang were returning with stolen horses—