walls, then the line of orchard
trees, then a row of currant bushes. Here, crouching low, he halted to
look and listen. He was now at the edge of the open ground, with the
gently rising slope before him. He could see the dark patches of cedar
and juniper trees. On the north side of the cabin a streak of fire
flashed in the blackness, and a shot rang out. Jean heard the bullet
bit the cabin. Then silence enfolded the lonely ranch and the darkness
lay like a black blanket. A low hum of insects pervaded the air. Dull
sheets of lightning illumined the dark horizon to the south. Once Jean
heard voices, but could not tell from which direction they came. To
the west of him then flared out another rifle shot. The bullet
whistled down over Jean to thud into the cabin.

Jean made a careful study of the obscure, gray-black open before him
and then the background to his rear. So long as he kept the dense
shadows behind him he could not be seen. He slipped from behind his
covert and, gliding with absolutely noiseless footsteps, he gained the
first clump of junipers. Here he waited patiently and motionlessly for
another round of shots from the rustlers. After the second shot from
the west side Jean sheered off to the right. Patches of brush, clumps
of juniper, and isolated cedars covered this slope, affording Jean a
perfect means for his purpose, which was to make a detour and come up
behind the rustler who was firing from that side. Jean climbed to the
top of the ridge, descended the opposite slope, made his turn to the
left, and slowly worked up behind the point near where he expected to
locate the rustler. Long habit in the open, by day and night, rendered
his sense of direction almost as perfect as sight itself. The first
flash of fire he saw from this side proved that he had come straight up
toward his man. Jean's intention was to crawl up on this one of the
Jorth gang and silently kill him with a knife. If the plan worked
successfully, Jean meant to work round to the next rustler. Laying
aside his rifle, he crawled forward on hands and knees, making no more
sound than a cat. His approach was slow. He had to pick his way, be
careful not to break twigs nor rattle stones. His buckskin garments
made no sound against the brush. Jean located the rustler sitting on
the top of the ridge in the center of an open space. He was alone.
Jean saw the dull-red end of the cigarette he was smoking. The ground
on the r