"Aye, but I do," and Westcott's voice proved his conviction. "There's nothing too nervy for her to tackle if it needed to be done. But she never could have corralled Mendez alone." "Then there must be another along with her--that fellow yer told me about likely." "Fred Cavendish! By Jove, it would be like him. Say, boys, I'm going down and take a hand in this game." The marshal gripped him. "Not yet, Jim! It ain't dark enough. Wait a bit more an' I'm with yer, old man. It'll be blacker than hell down there in fifteen minutes, an' then we'll have some chance. They'd pot us now sure afore we got as far as that cedar. What is the gang up to now, Matt?" "They're a goin' ter bust in the door," and Moore craned his head farther out over the edge in eagerness to see. "I reckon they didn't git no answer that pleased 'em. See ol' Mendez hoppin' about! Lord! he's mad 'nough to eat nails. Thar comes the log--say, they hit that some thump; thar ain't no wood that's goin' ter stand agin them blows long. Do yer hear?" They did; the dull reverberation as the log butt crashed against the closed door was plainly audible. Once, twice, three times it struck, giving forth at last the sharper crackling of splintered wood. They could see little now distinctly--only the dim outlines of the men's figures, Mendez shouting and gesticulating, the fellows grasping the rough battering-ram, a group of others on either side the door, evidently gathered for a rush the moment the latter gave way. "My God!" cried Westcott, struggling to restrain himself. "Suppose I take a crack at them!" Brennan caught the hand tugging at the half-drawn revolver. "Are you mad, man? You couldn't even hit the house at that distance. Holy smoke! There she goes!" The door crashed in; there was a fusillade of shots, the spits of fire cleaving the dusk, and throwing the figures of the men into sudden bold relief. The log wielders sprang aside, and the others leaped forward, yelling wildly and plunging in through the broken doorway. An instant later three muffled reports rang out from the interior--one deep and booming, the others sharper, more resonant--and the invaders tumbled backward into the open, seeking shelter. Westcott was erect, Brennan on hands and knees. "Damn me!" ejaculated the latter, his excitement conquering restraint. "Whoever they are, Jim, they're givin' ol' Mendez his belly full. Did yer hear them shots? There's sure two of 'em in thar--one's got a shotgun an' the other a revolver. I'll bet yer they punctuated some o' those lads. Lord! They come out like rats." Westcott's teeth gripped. "I'm going down," he said grimly, "if I have to go alone." Brennan scrambled to his feet. "Just a second, Jim, an' I'm with yer. Moore, get up yere. Now, what do yer say? Can we count you in on this shindig?" "Go down thar with yer?"