wn, and his forelegs stiff
before him. It was apparently an elaboration of one of the commonest
tricks of all; and if Haig could have stuck to the saddle then he
probably would have won. But he was thrown. He went sprawling over the
horse's lowered head, and struck the ground on his head and shoulders,
and lay still.

What followed was more marvelous even than the unseating of Haig with
the shout of victory already rising to his lips. There came a
snort that ended in a scream; and then a flash of yellow through the
dust. Bill Craven, on his horse at one side of the corral, saw it
coming straight toward him, and tried to whirl his noose. Too late.
The outlaw was upon him; his own pony, rearing, was caught unbalanced;
and Bill himself instinctively leaned backward in the saddle.
There was a terrific impact; the pony was struck squarely on the left
fore-quarter; and horse and rider went down together in a heap against
the fence. Then over them went the outlaw, trampling them as he
leaped and clambered, taking the top plank with him as he landed
outside the corral on his head and knees. In an instant he was up; in
another, or the same instant, he was off, with his head down, and
belly to earth, with the speed of a race-horse and the frenzy of a
wild thing set free.

Haig was only slightly stunned by the fall. He heard, though he did
not see, the escape of Sunnysides; and for one black moment all in the
present was blotted out. But that was only the dizziness, and the
reeling pain in his head; and there was the sky filled with
gray-black, contending clouds; and Pete was leaning over him.

"Hurt?" asked the Indian.

"No."

He reached up one hand, and Pete helped him to his feet. Swaying a
little, he looked around the corral. Farrish was on the outside,
gazing down the road where Sunnysides was now almost out of sight, a
mere yellow spot in a cloud of dust. Curly was jerking Craven's horse
to its feet.

"What's the matter there?" called Haig.

"Bill's hurt!" answered Curly.

With Pete at his side, not yet assured that all was well with him,
Haig walked unsteadily to where Bill lay against the fence.

"What is it, Craven?" he asked.

"Leg broke. My horse fell on me," Bill answered weakly. He had,
besides, a gash in the left side of his head, from which the blood
flowed down his face.

"Into the barn with him!" Haig ordered quietly.

They placed him on a cot, and Pete gave him a long pull at his
ever-ready flas