on the far side of the ridge, but the space below was empty. They
saw no men, no battling horses--nothing.

"They've hightailed it," someone called from the crest of the ridge.

"I tell you ... I got one of 'em.... He's over between those two bushes.
He'd pulled up to take up th' fella runnin' an' went out of th' saddle.
Other man got his hoss an' lit out."

Drew stood up.

"Where you goin' now?" Anse demanded.

"Where d' you think?" the Kentuckian asked dully. "After Shiloh."

He went on foot, down the slope, across the open where the gray had
unseated his rider and turned to take up the Pinto's challenge. Since the
horses were no longer in sight, there was only one way they could have
gone--to the east.

Drew was in the open when another of those wild sand and dust flurries
caught him. Buffeted here and there, staggering, his arm up over his face,
he was driven by its force until he brought up against a rock wall. With
that as a guide he kept on stubbornly, because once more he had heard the
scream of the Pinto. In triumph? Drew shivered under a thrust of fear
which left him sick. He was sure that that murderous red-and-white devil
had finished off Shiloh.

Along the wall ... keep going.... The dust was thinning again. Drew's hand
was on the Colt Topham had supplied. The Spencer lay back on the ridge.
But if any kind of fortune favored him now, he was going to shoot the
Pinto--if it was the last thing he ever did.

There was a clear space ahead once more. The sullen gray sky gave only
dulled light, but enough to see by.

Drew had heard many stories of the fury of the stallion battle, and he had
seen fearsome scars ridging the hides of two of the Range studs. But
actually witnessing such a battle shook him. Teeth ... hoofs ... blood on
Shiloh's shoulders and flanks ... a strip of flesh dangling.... But Drew
saw that the Pinto was marked, too.

The wild horse was trying for a final throat grip, and

Shiloh was on the defensive, running, wheeling to kick, once getting home
on the Pinto's ribs so that the spotted horse squealed with pain. Shiloh
had a torn ear and a gash open on his neck. The two battlers twisted and
turned in a mad fury of movement.

Drew edged on, Colt ready. But to fire now was impossible.

The Pinto's hoofs crashed against the saddle and Shiloh gave ground. With
a scream of triumph the wild one's head snaked out, teeth ready to set on
the larger horse's throat. Hopelessly, Drew shot--i