ys and blacks seemed to break apart and spread
rapidly from the edge of the mesquites. Puffs of white smoke indicated
firing, and showed the nature of the raiders' excitement. They were far
out of ordinary range, but they spurred toward Ladd, shooting as they
rode. Ladd held his ground; the big white horse stood like a rock in
his tracks. Gale saw little spouts of dust rise in front of Blanco Sol
and spread swift as sight to his rear. The raiders' bullets, striking
low, were skipping along the hard, bare floor of the valley. Then Ladd
raised the long rifle. There was no smoke, but three high, spanging
reports rang out. A gap opened in the dark line of advancing horsemen;
then a riderless steed sheered off to the right. Blanco Sol seemed to
turn as on a pivot and charged back toward the lower end of the valley.
He circled over to Gale's right and stretched out into his run. There
were now five raiders in pursuit, and they came sweeping down, yelling
and shooting, evidently sure of their quarry. Ladd reserved his fire.
He kept turning from back to front in his saddle.

Gale saw how the space widened between pursuers and pursued, saw
distinctly when Ladd eased up Sol's running. Manifestly Ladd intended
to try to lead the raiders round in front of Gale's position, and,
presently, Gale saw he was going to succeed. The raiders, riding like
vaqueros, swept on in a curve, cutting off what distance they could.
One fellow, a small, wiry rider, high on his mount's neck like a
jockey, led his companions by many yards. He seemed to be getting the
range of Ladd, or else he shot high, for his bullets did not strike up
the dust behind Sol. Gale was ready to shoot. Blanco Sol pounded by,
his rapid, rhythmic hoofbeats plainly to be heard. He was running
easily.

Gale tried to still the jump of heart and pulse, and turned his eye
again on the nearest pursuer. This raider was crossing in, his carbine
held muzzle up in his right hand, and he was coming swiftly. It was a
long shot, upward of five hundred yards. Gale had not time to adjust
the sights of the Remington, but he knew the gun and, holding coarsely
upon the swiftly moving blot, he began to shoot. The first bullet sent
up a great splash of dust beneath the horse's nose, making him leap as
if to hurdle a fence. The rifle was automatic; Gale needed only to pull
the trigger. He saw now that the raiders behind were in line. Swiftly
he worked the trigger. Suddenly t