"Shorty," he said, hoarsely, to the big man at his side--who had wriggled behind a rock at the crest of the depression and was coldly and deliberately using the rifle he had taken from the holster on his saddle; "we've got to have help--them scum outnumber us. You've got the fastest horse an' you're the best rider in the bunch. An' you've got the most sense. Barthman's ranch is the nearest, an' he's got fifteen men. You hit the breeze over there an' tell him what's happened. Tell him we're whipped if he don't help us. An' tell him to send a rider to Corts, an' Littlefield, an' Sigmund, an' Lester, an' Caldwell. Tell 'em to take that trail leadin' to Kinney's canon--this side. That's where they're headin' the cattle to. They'll come a-rushin', for they like the boss. "There's forty men in that gang that's hidin' ahead of us, tryin' to wipe us out. But if they was a hundred we could keep 'em from makin' any time, an' if you'll burn the breeze some, you can have Barthman an' the others at the trail near Kinney's canon before these guys get there!" "Hell's fire, Blackburn," protested Shorty; "ain't there somebody else can ride a damned horse? I'm aimin' to salivate some of them skunks!" "Orders is orders, Shorty," growled Blackburn, coldly. "You're goin', an' you're goin' right this minute--or I'm goin' to bust you in the eye!" "Well, if you put it that way," grimly grinned Shorty. He crawled out of the depression, threw himself upon his horse and raced southeastward, yelling, and waving his hat defiantly at the outlaws, who were shooting at him. But the speed of Shorty's horse was too great for accurate shooting; and Shorty kept going--waving his hat for a time, and then, when out of range, riding hard--seeming to glide like a shadow into the yawning gulf of distance. The depression into which Blackburn and his men had crept was not more than three or four feet deep, with long, sloping sides which were covered with alkali and rotted rock. Along the edges grew greasewood and mesquite bushes, which afforded concealment but not protection. The shallow was wide enough for the horses, though the men were forced to throw the animals and stake their heads down, so that they would not show themselves above the edge of the depression and thus become targets for the outlaws. The firing during the night was intermittent. Once the outlaws made an attempt to withdraw, rushing concertedly toward their horses, which they had concealed in a sand draw slightly behind them, southward. But Blackburn and his men were alert. The outlaws had chosen a gully for their ambuscade, but they had made the mistake of leaving their horses too far away from their place of concealment. And when they rushed across the stretch of level that extended from the gully to the draw, half a dozen of them dropped before they had traveled a quarter of the distance. The others plunged back into the gully, while the Circle L men yelled exultantly.