. They're
workin' along almost to that bare spot on the bank.... I saw the tip of
a rifle ... a black hat ... more dust. They're spreadin' along behind
the bank."

Loud voices, and then thick clouds of yellow dust, coming from behind
the highest and brushiest line of the embankment, attested to the truth
of Jean's observation, and also to a reckless disregard of danger.

Suddenly Jean caught a glint of moving color through the fringe of
brush. Instantly he was strung like a whipcord.

Then a tall, hatless and coatless man stepped up in plain sight. The
sun shone on his fair, ruffled hair. Daggs!

"Hey, you -- -- Isbels!" he bawled, in magnificent derisive boldness.
"Come out an' fight!"

Quick as lightning Jean threw up his rifle and fired. He saw tufts of
fair hair fly from Daggs's head. He saw the squirt of red blood. Then
quick shots from his comrades rang out. They all hit the swaying body
of the rustler. But Jean knew with a terrible thrill that his bullet
had killed Daggs before the other three struck. Daggs fell forward,
his arms and half his body resting over, the embankment. Then the
rustlers dragged him back out of sight. Hoarse shouts rose. A cloud of
yellow dust drifted away from the spot.

"Daggs!" burst out Gaston Isbel. "Jean, you knocked off the top of his
haid. I seen that when I was pullin' trigger. Shore we over heah
wasted our shots."

"God! he must have been crazy or drunk--to pop up there--an' brace us
that way," said Blaisdell, breathing hard.

"Arizona is bad for Texans," replied Isbel, sardonically. "Shore it's
been too peaceful heah. Rustlers have no practice at fightin'. An' I
reckon Daggs forgot."

"Daggs made as crazy a move as that of Guy an' Jacobs," spoke up Jean.
"They were overbold, an' he was drunk. Let them be a lesson to us."

Jean had smelled whisky upon his entrance to this cabin. Bill was a
hard drinker, and his father was not immune. Blaisdell, too, drank
heavily upon occasions. Jean made a mental note that he would not
permit their chances to become impaired by liquor.

Rifles began to crack, and puffs of smoke rose all along the embankment
for the space of a hundred feet. Bullets whistled through the rude
window casing and spattered on the heavy door, and one split the clay
between the logs before Jean, narrowly missing him. Another volley
followed, then another. The rustlers had repeating rifles and they
were emptying their magazines. Jean