man who listened into the wind, his broad hat-brim
blown back, the smoke of his firing around him. The horse lay still,
its rider struggling with one leg pinned under it, the other across
the saddle, the spur of that foot tearing the dead creature's flesh in
desperate effort to stir in it the life that no cruelty could awaken.

Leaning so, the wind in his face, the smoke blowing away behind him,
Mackenzie loaded his revolvers. Then he ran to the trapped invader of
his peace and took away his guns, leaving him imploring mercy and
assistance, the dead horse across his leg.

Mackenzie was aware of shooting behind him all this time, but only as
one is conscious of something detached and immaterial to the thing he
has in hand. Whether Hector Hall was riding down on him in defense of
his friend, or whether he was trying to drive Reid from the shelter of
his fallen horse, Mackenzie did not know, but from that moment Hall
was his business, no matter where he stood.

Putting out of the fight the man who lay pressed beneath his horse had
been a necessary preliminary, a colorless detail, a smoothing away of
a small annoyance in the road of that hour's great work. For the end
was justified beforehand between him and Hall. It was not a matter of
vengeance, but of justice. This man had once attempted to take away
his life by the most diabolical cruelty that human depravity could
devise.

This passed through Mackenzie's thoughts like the heat of a fire that
one runs by as he swung round to face Hall. Apparently unconcerned by
what had befallen his friend, Hall was circling Reid's dead horse,
holding tenaciously to his intention of clearing the ground before him
as he advanced. Reid snaked himself on his elbows ahead of his enemy's
encircling movement, keeping under cover with admirable coolness and
craft.

Mackenzie ran forward, throwing up his hand in command to Hall,
challenging him as plainly as words to turn his efforts from a
defenseless man to one who stood ready to give him battle. Hall drew
off a little from Reid's concealment, distrustful of him even though
he must have known him to be unarmed, not caring to put a man behind
his back. Still drawing off in that way, he stopped firing to slip
more cartridges into his automatic pistol, watching Mackenzie's rapid
advance, throwing a quick eye now and then toward the place where Reid
lay out of his sight.

Hall waited in that sharp pose of watchful indecision a moment, the