ding."

"Sure! Only I'll tell you, Casey, I'm awful tired of having it put all
over me by fellers that ain't got no license to. Some of these gents
that allow they're hard citizens ain't so dog-goned much. I s'pose they
figure on us peaceable farmers bein' bluffed out by a hard face and a
hostile talk. That's an awful bad bet for 'em to make."

They were approaching a region of broken ground, carved and ridged with
coulees and low hills, worthless save for range purposes. There Casey
decided that he would turn back. At best it was like looking for the
proverbial needle in a haystack. Chance only could serve them. Suddenly
McHale checked his horse.

"Listen!" he said sharply.

They were riding by the base of a low hill. At one side the ground
sloped away in a shallow depression which marked the head of a coulee.
As they sat listening intently the stillness was broken by a hollow,
muffled sound, the unmistakable trampling of hoofs. Faint at first, it
increased in volume. Plainly, horses were coming up the draw.

Four horsemen came into view. They were riding carelessly, slouching in
their saddles. One struck a match to light a pipe. The flame of it
showed for an instant above his cupped hands. At a hundred yards they
perceived the waiting horsemen, and halted abruptly.

"You there!" Casey hailed. "We want to talk to you!"

A vicious oath came as answer, distinct in the stillness. Then: "You
get back and mind your own business!"

McHale's rifle action clicked and clashed as he levered a cartridge
from magazine to chamber. "Up with your hands, the bunch of you," he
ordered, "or----"

[Illustration: SO QUICK WAS HIS PIVOTING MOTION THAT CASEY WAS ALMOST
UNSEATED]

The remainder was lost in the bark of a gun as one of the other party
fired. McHale's horse jumped as though stung, just as he pulled the
trigger, bumping into Shiner. Immediately that uncertain quadruped
wheeled and kicked at him. So quick was his pivoting motion that Casey
was almost unseated. He saved himself, but lost his rifle, which fell
to the ground. With a furious curse and a jerk of the bit he wheeled
Shiner around, drawing his automatic belt gun.

But the four strangers had taken advantage of the incident to turn and
plunge back into the coulee. They were almost out of sight. Casey's gun
spat a continuous jet of flame across the night, the rapid reports
blending into a roll of sound. McHale, cursing his unsteady horse,
fired again and again