oup go farther than other men a pint," boasted
Artie. "I'll show you: and I'll show that old----"

"You'll probably get shot," observed Buck, watching him closely.

"W'at t'hell," observed Artie with an airy gesture.

"It's the dope he takes," I told Johnson aside. "It only lasts about so
long. Get him going before it dies on him."

"I see. Trot right along," Buck commanded.

Taking this as permission Brower clapped heels to the stallion and shot
away like an arrow.

"Hold on! Stop! Oh, damn!" ejaculated the senor. "He'll gum the whole
game!" He spurred forward in pursuit, realized the hopelessness of
trying to catch the Morgan, and reined down again to a brisk travelling
canter. We surmounted the long, slow rise this side of Hooper's in time
to see a man stand out in the brush, evidently for the purpose of
challenging the horseman. Artie paid him not the slightest attention,
but swept by magnificently, the great stallion leaping high in his
restrained vitality. The outpost promptly levelled his rifle. We saw the
vivid flash in the half light. Brower reeled in his saddle, half fell,
caught himself by the stallion's mane and clung, swinging to and fro.
The horse, freed of control, tossed his head, laid back his ears, and
ran straight as an arrow for the great doors of the ranch.

We uttered a simultaneous groan of dismay. Then with one accord we
struck spurs and charged at full speed, grimly and silently. Against the
gathering hush of evening rose only the drum-roll of our horses' hoofs
and the dust cloud of their going. Except that Buck Johnson, rising in
his stirrups, let off three shots in the air; and at the signal from all
points around the beleagured ranch men arose from the brush and mounted
concealed horses, and rode out into the open with rifles poised.

The stallion thundered on; and the little jockey managed to cling to the
saddle, though how he did it none of us could tell. In the bottomland
near the ranch he ran out of the deeper dusk into a band of the strange,
luminous after-glow that follows erratically sunset in wide spaces. Then
we could see that he was not only holding his seat, but was trying to do
something, just what we could not make out. The reins were flying free,
so there was no question of regaining control.

A shot flashed at him from the ranch; then a second; after which, as
though at command, the firing ceased. Probably the condition of affairs
had been recognized.

All this we sa