of a trick so appallingly awkward
that a cleverer man might have failed in turning it. If his rifle
should play free in the scabbard as he reached for it, he could fall
to the ground, releasing it as he plunged from the saddle, and make a
fight on his feet. If the rifle failed to release he was a dead man.
To so narrow an issue are the cleverest combinations sometimes brought
by chance. He dropped his empty revolver, ducked like a mud-hen on his
horse's neck, threw back his leg, and, with all the precision he could
summon, caught the grip of his muley in both hands. He made his fall
heavily to the ground, landing on his shoulder. But as he keeled from
the saddle the last thing that rolled over the saddle, like the flash
of a porpoise fin, was the barrel of the rifle, secure in his hands.
Karg, on horseback, was already bending over him, revolver in hand,
but the shot was never fired. A thirty-thirty bullet from the ground
knocked the gun into the air and tore every knuckle from Karg's hand.
Du Sang spurred in from the right. A rifle-slug like an axe at the
root caught him through the middle. His fingers stiffened. His
six-shooter fell to the ground and he clutched his side. Seagrue,
ducking low, put spurs to his horse, and Whispering Smith, covered
with dust, rose on the battle-field alone.

Hats, revolvers, and coats lay about him. Face downward, the huge bulk
of Bill Dancing was stretched motionless in the road. Karg, crouching
beside his fallen horse, held up the bloody stump of his gun hand, and
Du Sang, fifty yards away, reeling like a drunken man in his saddle,
spurred his horse in an aimless circle. Whispering Smith, running
softly to the side of his own trembling animal, threw himself into the
saddle, and, adjusting his rifle sights as the beast plunged down the
draw, gave chase to Seagrue.

CHAPTER XXXI

THE DEATH OF DU SANG

Whispering Smith, with his horse in a lather, rode slowly back twenty
minutes later with Seagrue disarmed ahead of him. The deserted
battle-ground was alive with men. Stormy Gorman, hot for blood, had
come back, captured Karg, and begun swearing all over again, and Smith
listened with amiable surprise while he explained that seeing Dancing
killed, and not being able to tell from Whispering Smith's peculiar
tactics which side he was shooting at, Gorman and his companions had
gone for help. While they angrily surrounded Karg and Seagrue, Smith
slipped from his horse where Bill D