g on in panic. As it passed Morgan the Dutchman pitched from the
saddle, drug a little way by one encumbered foot, the frantic horse
plunging on. Fred Stilwell, closely followed by his father, came riding
into the square.

Morgan leaped to his feet, new hope in him at sight of this friendly
force. Craddock's companion turned to meet Fred with the fire of two
revolvers. One of the three sent a moment before to dislodge the
citizens, turned back to join this new battle.

Morgan had marked this man as Drumm from the beginning. He was a florid,
heavy man, his long mustache strangely white against the inflamed
redness of his face. He carried a large roll covered with black oilcloth
behind his saddle.

Morgan wasted one precious cartridge in a shot at this man as he passed.
The raider did not reply. He was riding straight to meet Stilwell and
Fred, to whom Craddock also turned his attention when he saw Morgan's
rifle broken on the ground. It was as if Craddock felt him out of the
fight, to be finished at leisure.

Morgan left his dubious shelter of the fallen horse and ran to meet his
friends, hoping to reach one of them and replenish his ammunition. Fred
Stilwell was coming up with the wind, his dust blowing ahead of him on
the sweeping gale. At his first shot the man who had left Craddock's
side to attack him pitched from his saddle, hands thrown out before him
as if he dived into eternity. The next breath Fred reeled in his saddle
and fell.

The man with the oilcloth roll at his saddle yelled in exultation,
lifting his gun high in challenge to Stilwell, who rode to meet him. A
moment Stilwell halted where Fred lay, as if to dismount, then galloped
furiously forward to avenge his fall. The two raiders who had gone
against the townsmen, evidently believing that the battle was going
against them, spurred for the open country.

Craddock was bearing down on Morgan, the fight being apportioned now
man to man. Morgan heard Stilwell's big gun roaring when he turned to
face Craddock, vindictive, grim, who came riding upon him with no word
of challenge, no shout of triumph in what seemed his moment of victory.

Morgan was steady and unmoved. The ground was under his feet, his arm
was not disturbed by the rock of a galloping horse. He lifted his weapon
and fired. Craddock's horse went down to its knees as if it had struck a
gopher hole, and Craddock, horseman that he was, pitched out of the
saddle and fell not two yards from