g by them. Several of the cattlemen's
bullets tearing through the wooden wall of the house had caught these
kneeling figures, and the fire from the place, never accurate, began to
weaken. Mart had another purpose in view, but of that he said nothing.
Possibly he was mortified by the failure of his sheep raid.

Knowing Injun and Whitey as you do, you can imagine that they got as
near to this dangerous situation as they could. No one ordered them back
because no one noticed them. But they fired no shots. The wish to kill
any man, no matter how vile, filled no part of Whitey's young life. It
would be hard to answer for Injun. Hard to tell what the blood of all
his fighting forefathers was prompting him to do.

But Injun couldn't fire a shot if he wanted to. You may remember the
Winchester that had been presented to Injun at the Bar O Ranch. He had
left the gun at home. Injun knew nothing of the modern silencer, but he
had one of his own--his bow and arrows. When he had started out in
pursuit of the horse-thief, whom he supposed to be Henry Dorgan, Injun
had carried these. No explosive gunshots for him. He expected to have to
work silently.

While most of the men had their eyes and the sights of their guns fixed
on the house, Mart Cooley kept his eyes on the sky. But despite this
Mart noticed that no shots came from two figures near him, and looking
closer he saw the crouching Whitey and Injun, the latter with his bow
and arrows. Mart was about to speak to them, when a cloud crossed the
moon. Mart gave vent to an oath of satisfaction and started forward.
Then he thought of something, came back, and grasping Injun by the arm,
dragged him forward with him.

It was a large cloud that obscured the moon, so there was a long period
of darkness. Whitey stayed where he was. He wondered whether Mart Cooley
would come and drag him forward, and rather hoped so. He wondered
whether this darkness would give the men on the hills a chance to join
their fellows in the ranch house. And Whitey also wondered where Buck
Milton was. He hadn't seen him with the party. But Buck was lying out
there on the plain; that is, the mortal Buck was. The other Buck was
probably with his friend Tom.

At last Whitey's curiosity could hold him back no longer, and he crept
forward to the front line of men, keeping well to one side. They had
ceased firing, the house was dark. And the sheepmen there had ceased
firing too. Their only marks had been the flash