Bob Leverett nodded and pricked his horse with the spurs, and the others lunged ahead to keep pace with him. They were yet some distance from the house when they heard the distant pop of gunshots--the unmistakable _pow-w_ of a .45 fired several times in quick succession, or else one or two shots from several guns. And, riding hard to the gate, they were not too late to see the tell-tale blue haze down by the pasture gate to show where the shooting had taken place. Bob, in the lead, opened the gate and let it swing wide to where the weight sagged it down so that it dropped against a rock and remained there. The three pounded through and took his dust to the stable and beyond, passing the house without a glance toward it. "It's dem Meddalahks dat shot shingles off ouah roof, suh," Sam called excitedly to Gelle, who was standing in the kitchen door with his six-shooter in his hand and a longing look in his eyes. "Now moah shootin' takes place direckly, Mist' Meddalahk. Yessuh, dey shuah can shoot!" "My luck--always settin' around in the shade watchin' the rest of the bunch have all the fun!" Gelle turned back, walked very circumspectly to the bedroom door, turned the knob and looked in. "Yore boss is showin' signs of life, Snowball. Guess I better camp here, seein' he's the old he-one of the bunch. Tell you what you do, Snowball. You go down there and tell the boys Jelly's here with a rib broke into a thousand pieces, an' old Palmer's hog-tied; so I can't leave, nohow. Will you do that?" "Ah--Ah do anything awn uth fer yo'all, Mist' Meddalahk. Ah--ef dey all shoots ole Sam, Ah wish yo'all 'd kinely keep dis heah dollah fo' tokum ob ma gratefulness, Mist' Meddalahk, suh." Gelle took the dollar, looked queerly at Sam and gave it back. He took what was left of the sheet, thrust it into the negro's shaking hands and grinned reassuringly. "You wave that, Snowball, and they won't shoot. I'm kinda afraid they might go out the other way, up along the field to the road. You ketch 'em, Snowball, and I'll give you another dollar when you bring 'em back. Tell 'em what I said--I got Palmer hog-tied, but my rib is stickin' through my liver er somethin' like that, so I can't fan down there. Gwan." Sam went, waving the torn sheet every step of the way; a brave thing to do, considering how scared he was. And Gelle, watching anxiously from the doorway, wondered why the shooting did not begin again, now that his fellows were at hand. For that matter, since it was not the Meadowlark boys who had started the gun-fighting in the pasture, down by the ledge, who was it? He had Palmer safe, and so far as he knew, Bat Johnson and the others had not returned from town. Certainly they had not passed the house, or Sam would have seen them. Yet they must have left town, or the Meadowlark boys would not be here.