y riders. Venters grew concerned over the possibility that these
horsemen would actually ride down on him before he had a chance to
tell what to expect. When they were within three hundred yards he
deliberately led Wrangle out into the trail.

Then he heard shouts, and the hard scrape of sliding hoofs, and saw
horses rear and plunge back with up-flung heads and flying manes.
Several little white puffs of smoke appeared sharply against the black
background of riders and horses, and shots rang out. Bullets struck far
in front of Venters, and whipped up the dust and then hummed low into
the sage. The range was great for revolvers, but whether the shots were
meant to kill or merely to check advance, they were enough to fire that
waiting ferocity in Venters. Slipping his arm through the bridle, so
that Wrangle could not get away, Venters lifted his rifle and pulled the
trigger twice.

He saw the first horseman lean sideways and fall. He saw another lurch
in his saddle and heard a cry of pain. Then Wrangle, plunging in fright,
lifted Venters and nearly threw him. He jerked the horse down with
a powerful hand and leaped into the saddle. Wrangle plunged again,
dragging his bridle, that Venters had not had time to throw in place.
Bending over with a swift movement, he secured it and dropped the loop
over the pommel. Then, with grinding teeth, he looked to see what the
issue would be.

The band had scattered so as not to afford such a broad mark for
bullets. The riders faced Venters, some with red-belching guns. He heard
a sharper report, and just as Wrangle plunged again he caught the whim
of a leaden missile that would have hit him but for Wrangle's sudden
jump. A swift, hot wave, turning cold, passed over Venters. Deliberately
he picked out the one rider with a carbine, and killed him. Wrangle
snorted shrilly and bolted into the sage. Venters let him run a few
rods, then with iron arm checked him.

Five riders, surely rustlers, were left. One leaped out of the saddle to
secure his fallen comrade's carbine. A shot from Venters, which missed
the man but sent the dust flying over him made him run back to his
horse. Then they separated. The crippled rider went one way; the one
frustrated in his attempt to get the carbine rode another, Venters
thought he made out a third rider, carrying a strange-appearing bundle
and disappearing in the sage. But in the rapidity of action and vision
he could not discern what it was. Two riders