Down in the valley Lang looked searchingly around and then, tying his rope to the remaining strand of wire, urged his horse ahead. He was standing up in the stirrups, his weight on one leg, leaning to one side to keep the rope from pressing against his other leg, his back to the hill, and he did not see the black thunderbolt dropping down the green slope; and so intent was he upon the work in hand that his ears did not give him warning of the charging enemy in time to attempt deliberate and well-sighted long-range rifle shooting. The wire had been torn loose from the first post and was straining at the staples in the next one before he had any intimation of the swiftly approaching danger. Surprised and galvanized into action by the sound of rolling hoofs pounding over a stretch of bare, hard ground, he turned in his saddle, flung a glance at the racing thoroughbred and jerked his rifle from its sheath. His horse, feeling the rope rub against one of its hind legs, kicked viciously and pranced. Twisting from one side to the other, rifle at his shoulder, Lang found himself in too awkward a position for well-aimed shooting against the racing enemy, who lay along the back of his horse and presented a discouragingly small target. Sliding the rifle back into the sheath, Lang worked desperately at the rope, trying to free it from the saddle. Cursing his clumsy fingers, he suddenly realized the trouble. "D--n my soul, if somebody ain't _knotted_ it! Oh, th' cussed fool!" Giving up the attempt, he reached again for the rifle, swiftly changed his mind and pulled angrily on the reins to back his horse so he could get the other end of the rope and free it from the wire. "Staked out like a calf!" he gritted. Hauling in the rope, he at last grabbed the knot, and swore again. It had pulled so tight that precious seconds were wasted before he could free it, and his temper was not sweetened any by the two bullets which Johnny, firing at long range, sent on a gamble. They missed him by feet, but had their effect. Dropping the freed wire, he spurred around to face the swiftly nearing danger and jerked out his Colt, firing hastily. Johnny now was standing up in his stirrups to offset the bouncing of the horse and his shots were coming nearer all the time. Lang swerved his horse suddenly and fired again, but the animal was prancing. Johnny's reply struck the horse and the pain-racked animal, leaping convulsively, bolted for the gap between the posts, straight for the quicksands. Lang, frantic at this new danger, fought the animal with one hand, trying desperately to turn it, and used the gun with his other hand, doing neither well. Johnny, drawing his second Colt, replied to Lang's last shot and the Triangle puncher, dropping his weapon, sagged forward in the saddle and fell sideways into a grassy hollow, where he sprawled grotesquely as his horse, freed of his weight, leaped forward at greater speed and dashed