rse you want you needn't kill Bostil," spoke up
Slone. The contrast of his cool, quiet voice eased the terrible strain.

"Lead him round hyar!" snapped Sears.

Wildfire appeared more shy of the horses back of him than of the men.
Slone was able to lead him, however, to within several paces of Sears.
Then Slone dropped the reins. He still held a lasso which was loosely
coiled, and the loop dropped in front of him as he backed away.

Sears sheathed the left-hand gun. Keeping the group covered with the
other, he moved backward, reaching for the hanging reins. Wildfire
snorted, appeared about to jump. But Sears got the reins. Bostil,
standing like a stone, his companions also motionless, could not help
but admire the daring of this upland horse-thief. How was he to mount
that wild stallion? Sears was noted for two qualities--his nerve before
men and his skill with horses. Assuredly he would not risk an ordinary
mount. Wildfire began to suspect Sears--to look at him instead of the
other horses. Then quick as a cat Sears vaulted into the saddle.
Wildfire snorted and lifted his forefeet in a lunge that meant he would
bolt.

Sears in vaulting up had swung the gun aloft. He swept it down, but
waveringly, for Wildfire had begun to rear.

Bostil saw how fatal that single instant would have been for Sears if
he or Holley had a gun.

Something whistled. Bostil saw the leap of Slone's lasso--the curling,
snaky dart of the noose which flew up to snap around Sears. The rope
sung taut. Sears was swept bodily clean from the saddle, to hit the
ground in sodden impact.

Almost swifter than Bostil's sight was the action of Slone--flashing
by--in the air--himself on the plunging horse. Sears shot once, twice.
Then Wildfire bolted as his rider whipped the lasso round the horn.
Sears, half rising, was jerked ten feet. An awful shriek was throttled
in his throat.

A streak of dust on the slope--a tearing, parting line in the sage!

Bostil stood amazed. The red stallion made short plunges. Slone reached
low for the tripping reins. When he straightened up in the saddle
Wildfire broke wildly into a run.

It was characteristic of Holley that at this thrilling, tragic instant
he walked over into the sage to pick up his gun.

"Throwed a gun on me, got the drop, an' pitched mine away!" muttered
Holley, in disgust. The way he spoke meant that he was disgraced.

"My Gawd! I was scared thet Sears would get the hoss!" rolled out
Bostil.