you ---- ---- ----!" yelled Blinky. Death for more
of them quivered in the balance. As one man, Hardman's riders rushed
with thudding boots and tinkling spurs to mount their horses. Several
did not wait for further orders, but plunged away down the lane toward
the outlet.

"Rustle, hoss thieves," added Blinky, with something of the old drawl
in his voice, that yet seemed the more deadly for it. With quick
strides he had gotten behind most of the riders. "Get out of heah!"

With shuffling, creaking of leather, and suddenly cracking hoofs the
order was obeyed. The riders soon disappeared around the corner of the
bluff.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The two horses left, belonging to Hardman and Purcell, neighed loudly
at being left behind, and pulled on their halters.

Pan's quick eye caught sight of a rifle in a sheath on one of the
saddles. He ran to get it, but had to halt and approach the horse
warily. But he secured the rifle--a Winchester--fully loaded.

Blinky, observing Pan's act, repeated it with the other horse.

"Pard, I ain't figgerin' they'll fight, even from cover," said Blinky.
"By gosh, this hoss must have been Purcell's. Shore. Stirrups too
long for Hardman. An' the saddle bag is full of shells."

"Slip along the fence and see where they went," replied Pan.

"Aw, I can lick the whole outfit now," declared Blinky, recklessly.

"You keep out of sight," ordered Pan.

Whereupon Blinky, growling something, crashed a way through the cedar
fence and disappeared.

Pan hurriedly sheathed his gun, and with the rifle in hand, ran back to
the overhanging bluff, where he began to climb through the brush.
Fierce action was necessary to him then. He did not spare himself.
Forever he half-expected some kind of attack from the men who had been
driven away. Soon he had reached a point where he could work round to
the side of the bluff. When he looked out upon the valley he espied
Hardman's outfit two miles down the slope, beyond the cedar fence.
They had set fire to the cedars. A column of yellow smoke rolled way
across the valley.

"Ah-huh! They're rustling--all right," panted Pan. "Wonder what--kind
of a story--they'll tell. Looks to me--like they'd better keep clear
of Marco."

Then a reaction set in upon Pan. He crawled into the shade of some
brush and stretched out, letting his tight muscles relax. The terrible
something released its hold on mind and heart. He was sick. He fought
wit