d for me," he said, calling his shot so as to be
sure that the same brave would not receive all the attention. As he fired
his companion covered the second warrior, using one of his captured
Winchesters, and a second later the rifle spun flame. Both warriors
dropped and the remaining four hastily postponed their mourning and
tumbled helter skelter behind the bowlder, the sheriff's second shot
becoming a part of the last one to find cover.

"Fine!" exulted the sheriff, delighted at the score. "Best game I ever
took a hand in, d-----d if it ain't! We'll have them guessing so hard that
they'll get brain fever."

"Three shots in as many seconds will make them think that they are
facing a Winchester in the hands of a crack shot," remarked The Orphan,
smiling with pleasure at the sheriff's appreciation. "They'll think
that if they can back off from the bowlder and keep it between them and
you that they can get out of range in a few hundred yards more. That is
where I come in again. You sling a little lead to let them know that you
haven't moved a whole lot, but stop in a couple of minutes, while I go
down the line a ways. The chaparral sweeps to the north quite a little,
and mebby I can drop a slug behind their fort from down there. That'll
make them think you are a jack rabbit at covering ground and will bother
them. If they rush, which they won't after tasting that kind of shooting,
you whistle good and loud and we'll make them plumb disgusted. I'll take
a Winchester along with me, so they won't have any cause to suspect that
you are an arsenal. So long."

The sheriff glanced up as his companion departed and was pleased at the
outlaw's command of the situation. He had a good chance to wipe out the
man, but that he would not do, for The Orphan trusted him, and Shields
was one who respected a thing like that.

The outlaw finally stopped about a hundred yards down the trail and looked
out, using his glasses. A brown shoulder showed under the overhanging side
of the bowlder and he smiled, readjusting the sights on the Winchester as
he waited. Soon the shoulder raised from the ground and pushed out farther
into sight. Then a poll of black hair showed itself and slowly raised.
The Orphan took deliberate aim and pulled the trigger. The head dropped to
the sand and the shoulder heaved convulsively once or twice and then lay
quiet. Leaping up, the marksman hastened back to the side of the sheriff,
who did not trouble himself to l