g at the chinks.

Up until this time, the defenders had not fired a shot. Even now,
after the preparations had been made, Kid Wolf advised against wasting
ammunition. The rustler gang were firing from the cover of the saloon,
and were well protected.

"Hunt up all the guns heah," the Kid cried, "and load 'em. If they
rush us, we'll need to shoot fast!"

Several rifles were hunted up--Winchesters and two muzzle-loading
Sharps .50s. There were also a powder-and-ball buffalo gun of the old
pattern, and, to Kid Wolf's delight, a sawed-off, double-barreled
shotgun.

In the light of the early morning, each detail of the grim scene was
brought out minutely. It was a picture Kid Wolf never forgot! Across
the street that formed the No Man's Land was the saloon, wreathed in
powder smoke, as guns spat sullen flame. And swinging slightly above
the splintered green-shuttered doors was the dead body of Durham, neck
stretched horribly, head on breast. It seemed a grotesque phantom,
warning them of death to come.

The horses had been run into the back of the store itself, as a
protection against flying bullets. Kid Wolf suggested that they be
saddled, so that they would be ready for use if occasion demanded it.

"We might have to make a run fo' it at any time," he warned.

The firing from the saloon went on for nearly an hour. Then there was
a sudden lull.

"Look out now!" The Kid exclaimed. "Looks like they mean to rush us!"

"We'll cure 'em o' that!" Old Beef McCay cried grimly. He picked up
the sawed-off shotgun.

The Texan was right. A yell went up from the saloon, and a dozen men
rushed out, firing as they came. Six others carried a heavy beam,
evidently torn from the interior of the Idle Hour. It was their
intention to use this as a battering-ram to smash in the door of the
store.

The cry from the defenders was "Let 'em have it!"

The terrific thunder of the shotgun and the buffalo rifle blended with
the loud roar of six-guns. Hammers fell with deadly regularity. Fire
blazed from every loophole and shooting space.

When the smoke cleared away, Tip McCay emitted a whoop that the others
echoed. The charge had been stopped, and very effectively. The big
beam lay on the ground, with the writhing bodies of four men around it.
The "scatter gun" had accounted for three of them; Kid Wolf had put the
other out of business with bullets through both legs. A little to one
side were two more of the outlaw