ing materialized suddenly into a sharp thunderstorm and the
canvas walls of her teepee were almost continuously illuminated by
successive flashes. The picketed horses fretted and stamped. Between
peals she heard the voices of the night guards singing to soothe their
restless charges on the bed ground. One of the men shifted his bed
roll from a gathering puddle to some higher point of ground.

She dropped to sleep again but was roused by voices outside as the
guards changed shifts and she estimated that it must be near morning,
the fourth change of guards.

The sounds ceased as the men who had just been relieved turned in for
their sleep. A horse neighed shrilly within a few yards of her teepee.
Another took it up and an answer sounded from the flats. There was a
crash of pistol shots, a rumble of hoofs and the instant command of
Harris.

"Roll out! Roll out!" he called. "Saddles! On your horses."

Even as he shouted there came the swish of wet canvas as the men
tumbled from their bed rolls, the imprecations of the suddenly
awakened. Billie thrust her head from the teepee flap, the water
cascading down her neck. The successive flashes showed the men tugging
desperately at boots and chaps, their grotesque, froglike leaps for
their tethered mounts. She saw Harris, buckling his belt as he ran,
and the next flash showed him vaulting to Calico's back.

The thunder of hoofs drew her eyes to the bed ground where a black mass
surged, then bore off up the valley. A scattered line of riders bore
down on the herd, two ghostly apparitions among them throwing the cows
into a panic of fear. She knew these for riders flapping yellow
slickers in the wind. As the light faded she saw three horizontal red
streaks cut the obscurity and knew that one of her guards was in the
midst of the rustlers, doing his single-handed best. The red splashes
of answering shots showed on all sides of him. She tugged on her chaps
and boots, slipped Papoose's picket rope and vaulted to his back.

The scene was once more illuminated as she rode from the wagon. A big
pinto horse was strung out and running his best, the other Three Bar
men pounding after him. A riderless horse circled in the flat, a dark
shape sprawled near him, and she wondered which one of her men had gone
down. A knot of horsemen were turning up an opening gulch on the far
side of the valley. A half-dozen Three Bar riders veered their horses
for the spot. Harris tur