any of you don't want to
go along, ride right on to camp, but I'd like to have you all go. And
when I take his measure, it will be the signal to the rest of you to
put out the lights. All that's going, come on." There were no
dissenters to the programme. I saw at a glance that my bunkie was
heart and soul in the play, and took my cue and kept my mouth shut. We
circled round the town to a vacant lot within a block of the rear of
the dance hall. Honeyman was left to hold the horses; then, taking off
our belts and hanging them on the pommels of our saddles, we secreted
our six-shooters inside the waistbands of our trousers. The hall was
still crowded with the revelers when we entered, a few at a time,
Forrest and Priest being the last to arrive. Forrest had changed hats
with The Rebel, who always wore a black one, and as the bouncer
circulated around, Quince stepped squarely in front of him. There was
no waste of words, but a gun-barrel flashed in the lamplight, and the
bouncer, struck with the six-shooter, fell like a beef. Before the
bewildered spectators could raise a hand, five six-shooters were
turned into the ceiling. The lights went out at the first fire, and
amidst the rush of men and the screaming of women, we reached the
outside, and within a minute were in our saddles. All would have gone
well had we returned by the same route and avoided the town; but after
crossing the railroad track, anger and pride having not been properly
satisfied, we must ride through the town.

On entering the main street, leading north and opposite the bridge on
the river, somebody of our party in the rear turned his gun loose into
the air. The Rebel and I were riding in the lead, and at the
clattering of hoofs and shooting behind us, our horses started on the
run, the shooting by this time having become general. At the second
street crossing, I noticed a rope of fire belching from a Winchester
in the doorway of a store building. There was no doubt in my mind but
we were the object of the manipulator of that carbine, and as we
reached the next cross street, a man kneeling in the shadow of a
building opened fire on us with a six-shooter. Priest reined in his
horse, and not having wasted cartridges in the open-air shooting,
returned the compliment until he emptied his gun. By this time every
officer in the town was throwing lead after us, some of which cried a
little too close for comfort. When there was no longer any shooting on
our fla