n upon her.

Instinctively Bob's mind functioned. The day was warm and his coat hung
over an arm. He stepped into the road as the brindle bull came opposite
the hotel. The coat was swung out expertly and dropped over the animal's
head. The cowpuncher slipped to his knees, arms tightening and fingers
feeling for the throat of the writhing brute struggling blindly.

Its snapping jaws just missed his hand. Man and dog rolled over into the
dust together. Its hot breath fanned Bob's face. Again he was astride of
the dog. His fingers had found its throat at last. They tightened, in
spite of its horrible muscular contortions to get free.

There came a swish of skirts, the soft pad of running feet. A girl's
voice asked, "What shall I do?"

It did not at that moment seem strange to Dillon that June was beside
him, her face quick with tremulous anxiety. He spoke curtly, as one who
gives orders, panting under the strain of the effort to hold the dog.

"My gun."

She picked the forty-five up from where it had fallen. Their eyes met.
The girl did swiftly what had to be done. It was not until she was alone
in her room half an hour later that the thought of it made her sick.

Bob rose, breathing deep. For an instant their eyes held fast. She handed
him the smoking revolver. Neither of them spoke.

From every door, so it seemed, people poured and converged toward them.
Excited voices took up the tale, disputed, explained, offered excuses.
Everybody talked except June and Bob.

Blister rolled into the picture. "Dawg-gone my hide if I ever see
anything to b-beat that. He was q-quick as c-chain lightnin', the boy
was. Johnny on the spot. Jumped the critter s-slick as a whistle." His
fat hand slapped Bob's shoulder. "The boy was sure there with both hands
and feet."

"What about June?" demanded Mollie. "Seems to me she wasn't more'n a mile
away while you men-folks were skedaddlin' for cover."

The fat man's body shook with laughter. "The boys didn't s-stop to make
any farewell speeches, tha's a fact. I traveled some my own self, but I
hadn't hardly got started before Houck was outa sight, an' him claimin'
he was lookin' for trouble too."

"Not that kind of trouble," grinned Mike the bartender. He could afford
to laugh, for since he had been busy inside he had not been one of the
vanishing heroes. "Don't blame him a mite either. If it comes to that I'm
givin' the right of way to a mad dog every time."

"Hmp!" snorted Mollie.