"Well, I told you I was going to come, didn't I? And I'm coming--now!"

With the last word he whipped out his gun. There was a crash of
bullets. Questioned once by McCloud and reproached for taking chances,
Whispering Smith answered simply. "I have to take chances," he said.
"All I ask is an even break."

But Kennedy had said there was no such thing as an even break with
Whispering Smith. A few men in a generation amuse, baffle, and mystify
other men with an art based on the principle that the action of the
hand is quicker than the action of the eye. With Whispering Smith the
drawing of a revolver and the art of throwing his shots instantly from
wherever his hand rested was pure sleight-of-hand. To a dexterity so
fatal he added a judgment that had not failed when confronted with
deceit. From the moment that Du Sang first spoke, Smith, convinced
that he meant to shoot his way through the line, waited only for the
moment to come. When Du Sang's hand moved like a flash of light,
Whispering Smith, who was holding his coat lapels in his hands, struck
his pistol from the scabbard over his heart and threw a bullet at him
before he could fire, as a conjurer throws a vanishing coin into the
air. Spurring his horse fearfully as he did so, he dashed at Du Sang
and Karg, leaped his horse through their line and, wheeling at arm's
length, shot again. Bill Dancing jumped in his saddle, swayed, and
toppled to the ground. Stormy Gorman gave a single whoop at the
spectacle and, with his two cowboys at his heels, fled for life.

[Illustration: Wheeling at arm's length, shot again.]

More serious than all, Smith found himself among three fast revolvers,
working from an unmanageable horse. The beast tried to follow the
fleeing cowboys, and when faced sharply about showed temper. The
trained horses of the outlaws stood like statues, but Smith had to
fight with his horse bucking at every shot. He threw his bullets as
best he could first over one shoulder and then over the other, and
used the last cartridge in his revolver with Du Sang, Seagrue, and
Karg shooting at him every time they could fire without hitting one
another.

It was not the first time the Williams Cache gang had sworn to get him
and had worked together to do it, but for the first time it looked as
if they might do it. A single chance was left to Whispering Smith for
his life, and with his coat slashed with bullets, he took it. For an
instant his life hung on the success