"Bill!" he whispered excitedly. "Look here. It's a holdup!" The other man looked over his shoulder. He swore softly. "I'll bet it's The Coyote!" said the first man in an awed voice. "Probably is," said Rathburn sneeringly. "They say he was heading this way." "Good place to stay out of--if it's _him_," declared the second man. Rathburn suddenly pulled back his left sleeve. "See that?" he said, pointing to his left forearm. The two men stared at the bared forearm in the yellow light which shone through the dust-stained window. They saw a scar about three inches below the elbow. "Looks like a bullet made that," one of the men observed. "You're right," said Rathburn, letting down his shirt sleeve. "A bullet from The Coyote's gun left that mark." The men looked at him wonderingly and respectfully. "You boys live here?" asked Rathburn. "Sure," was the reply. "We work in the Pine Knot Hotel an' stables. You from the hills?" "Yep," answered Rathburn. "Cow-puncher an' horseshoer an' one thing an' another. What's he doing now?" He again turned his attention to the scene within the resort, as did the two men with him. The bandit was backing away from the bar toward the rear of the room, still keeping his guns thrust out before him, menacing the men who stood with uplifted hands. "You can tell your funny judge that I called!" he sang out as he reached the rear door. "An' now, gents," he continued in an excited voice, "it won't go well with the man that tries to get out this back way too soon." As he ceased speaking his guns roared. The two large hanging lamps, suspended from the ceiling in the center, went out to the accompaniment of shattered glass crashing on the floor. The three smaller lamps above the back bar next were cut to splinters by bullets and the place was in total darkness. Then there was silence, save for the sound of a horse's hoofs coming from somewhere behind the building. Rathburn drew back from the window as a match flared within and his two companions moved toward the front door. He stole around the corner of the building and started on a run for the rear. He stopped when he heard a horse galloping toward the east end of the street behind the buildings which lined that side. He hurried behind two buildings which did not extend as far as the resort and hastened up the street. He did not once look back. Behind him he heard shouts and men running in the street. He increased his pace until he was running swiftly for the trees where he had left his horse. From above he caught the dying echoes of hoofs flying on the trail up the foothills by which he had come early that night. The cries down the street increased, a gun barked, and bullets whined over his head. "The locoed fools!" he panted. "Didn't they hear that fellow ride away?"