posin' you do
get Kitchell stopped here at the pass--and the army patrol comes in behind
him. Then together you can finish him, and perhaps some bronco Apaches
into the bargain. It could work."

Drew paused and then went on. "Of course, I have a good reason of my own
for being here, apart from not wantin' to swallow Captain Bayliss' brand
of justice. Kitchell's men took Shiloh. And nobody, nobody at all, suh, is
goin' to run off that horse--not while I'm able to do something about it!"

"Seems to me, suh," Anse cut in now, "that three more guns is gonna be
healthy for you to have 'round here, does th' fight work out th' way it
can. Me, I don't make no big brag on my shootin'--but I never did wear no
six-gun, nor tote no carbine, jus' for show."

"Of course, if you think we're Kitchell's plants," Drew added, "then keep
us under guard. Only we're not and never were."

"Topham, Topham planned this?" Rennie still showed surprise. "I don't--"

A bird called flutingly. Rennie stiffened. Men moved, up slope, into
cover, without direction.

"You two ... get up there, behind those pointed rocks," _Don_ Cazar
directed with a stab of his finger. "I'll be right behind you."

"We ain't about to give you no trouble," Anse said as he obeyed, and Drew
agreed as he followed the Texan into hiding.

"I'd like a rifle jus' 'bout now," Anse remarked. "Only thing I've ever
held 'gainst a six-gun is that it don't throw lead as far as a fella could
sometimes want it to. But I think we've sorta been ruled outta this here
fight--'less th' enemy gits close 'nough to spit at."

Now they could see down the cut of the pass. The narrow passage wound
between rocks and Drew, though he could not spot them, did not doubt that
Rennie's forces were snuggled in where a surprise volley could do the most
good.

"Somethin' sure is comin'." Anse had one hand flat on the ground. "Feels
like th' whole danged army hoofin' it an' fast!"

Drew was aware of it, too--the vibration carrying through stone and soil.
The drumming of hoofs, horses coming at a run. Now it was more than
vibration, a distinct roll of sound magnified and echoed. And he caught a
shout or two, the cries of men hazing on laggers. It must be Kitchell on
his way through to the border!

A dust haze, rising like smoke. Then the foremost runner of the band
appeared in the cut, the whites of its eyes showing, patches of foam
sticky on chest and shoulder. Five ... ten ... an even dozen--but