ey rightly guessed this was to
be a skirmish party, to sally out and see who were the attackers--perhaps
to wipe them out.

"Crawl over to the left and wait for me," went on Snake. "Don't move
until you can have shelter all the way. The firing's coming from only
one direction as yet--guard against that. Get together and wait for me."

Sharp are the wits of those who live in the west, especially in the
cattle country where snap judgment is often needed. Thus it took but a
moment for Snake's plan to make itself plain to Bud and the others.

One by one they crawled, or ran half crouched, from their original places
of safety to the angle where a great rock, jutting out from the side of
the glen in which they had camped, offered shelter for all. There they
stood, with ready guns, waiting for the next move in the grim game.

Snake had remained in consultation with Yellin' Kid until now, and then,
seeing his force waiting for him, the veteran cowboy made a dash to join
them.

I call it a dash, but Snake was not foolhardy, and the advice he gave he
took himself. Advantaging himself of every natural cover, the leader of
the second party dodged this way and that, stooping over half double,
until he was within ten feet of the shelter. Then since along the route
where he came from, there was an open, unprotected space, he tried to
cross this in two jumps.

He succeeded, but as he landed, and half fell amid his comrades, a gun
barked, somewhere out in the ambush, and by the convulsive movement of
his body Snake gave evidence of having been hit.

"Are you hurt?" cried Bud, as he caught the reeling cowboy.

"Guess not--much!" grunted Snake, but his voice was labored.

"Where was it?" snapped out one of the cowboys. "Let's have a look."

"Here!" Snake placed his hand over his heart. The boy ranchers
gasped--they knew what it meant to lose one of their leaders at a time
like this.

In an instant Snake's coat was flung open, and his shirt half torn to
expose his chest. And then there fell out, from next his skin on which
it had made an ugly bruise, a partly flattened bullet.

"Whew!" whistled Nort.

"Close call, that!" added Dick.

"Doggone!" voiced Snake, as he reached his hand to the inside pocket of
his vest. "They spilled half of it!"

"What?" asked Bud, relief showing itself in his voice.

"My tobacco!" answered Snake. "I had some packed away there to keep it
moist--some new kind of plug chewin' I got