ut 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.

As Blackburn had told Shorty, he did not expect to rout or capture the
outlaws; the best he could hope for was that Shorty would get help in
time to head off the cattle before the other outlaws drove them into
Kinney's canon or that he would bring help to the Circle L men in time
to prevent the sanguinary fight which would certainly occur as soon as
the day dawned.

And so Blackburn waited, grimly watchful; though worry began to wrinkle
his face as he noted that the semi-gloom of the starlit night was
lifting, and that a gray streak on the eastern horizon was slowly
broadening.

CHAPTER XXIX

ANTRIM STRIKES

From the doorway of the cabin on the Rabbit Ear, Antrim had watched
Slade and his men ride away. His gaze followed them until they vanished
over the edge of the big plain above the river valley. Then, smiling
crookedly, he turned back into the cabin.

Two men--one of them the tall m