ly
generalship of his comrade filled him with admiration. And he had
thought him ill, his brain turned! For some reason he believed the
raiders were approaching, but not being absolutely sure, he had found
an excuse for not turning in as usual, and cloaked all his suspicions
for fear of giving a false alarm. And their present position was one
of carefully considered strategy; the only possible one from which
they could hope to achieve any advantage, for, sheltered, they yet had
every gate of the corrals within gunshot.

But there was little time for reflection or speculation. If the
sheriff's men came, well and good. In the meantime a crowd of a dozen
men had charged down upon the corrals, a silent, ghostly band; the
only noise they made was the clatter of their horses' hoofs.

Both men, watching, were lying over their horses' necks. Arizona was
the first to shoot. Again his gun belched a death-dealing shot.
Tresler saw one figure reel and fall with a groan. Then his own gun
was heard. His aim was less effective, and only brought a volley in
reply from the raiders. That volley was the signal for the real battle
to begin. The ambush of the two defenders was located, and the
rustlers divided, and came sweeping round to the attack.

But Arizona was ready. Both horses wheeled round and raced out of
their improvised fort, and Tresler, following the keen-witted man,
appreciated his resource as he darted into another angle between two
other corrals. The darkness favored them, and the rustlers swept by.
Arizona only waited long enough for them to get well clear, then his
gun rang out again, and Tresler's too. But the game was played out. A
straggler sighted them and gave the alarm, and instantly the rest took
up the chase.

"Round the corrals!"

As he spoke Arizona turned in his saddle and fired into the mob. A
perfect hail of shots replied, and the bullets came singing all round
them. He was as cool and deliberate as though he were hunting
jack-rabbits. Tresler joined him in a fresh fusillade, and two more
saddles were emptied, but the next moment a gasp told Arizona that his
comrade was hit, and he turned only just in time to prevent him
reeling out of the saddle.

"Hold up, boy!" he cried. "Kep your saddle if hell's let loose. I'll
kep 'em busy."

And the wounded man, actuated by a similar spirit, sat bolt upright,
while the two horses sped on. They were round at the front again. But
though Arizona was as good as h