from the men that carried them, and knotted
together, the wagon was kept under partial control and the line, as
paid out, served in some measure to guide it. On it went accompanied
with shouts and yells. From the threatened cabin came no answering
defiance. Henry's case looked bad as the wagon rolled down on him, but
his rifle fire, though seemingly wasted, answered unflinchingly.

Stone danced with joy: "He'll be running the gauntlet next clip. He's
not hitting anybody. He must be shooting," yelled the excited foreman,
"at the blamed wagon."

A steady fire, undismayed, did continue to come from the cabin. Van
Horn, who had run to the extreme right of the new sector, and was
keeping a close watch on the go-devil, was the first to perceive
trouble. "Hell's delight, boys," he cried, taken aback, "he's shooting
up the wheels."

The words flew around behind the rocks. The rifle fire was explained.
Every eye was turned to the danger point, the wheel without the tire
which, as the wagon wobbled, was unluckily exposed to the cabin fire.
It could easily be seen where the deliberate marksman was getting in
his work. He had knocked one felloe off the rim and was hitting at the
spokes. It began to look like a race between the burning wagon and
Henry at bay. The hay was a mound of flame and sparks and smoke shot
high into the air. A hundred feet more would lodge the fire trap
against the rear wall of the cabin. But under the steady pounding of a
rifle that seemed never to miss its mark the injured wheel showed fast
increasing signs of distress. A second felloe was tracking uncertainly.

As a diversion, Van Horn, active, energetic and covering every part of
his little line at once, ordered an incessant fire centered on the
threatened cabin. Nothing seemed to check the regular report of the
hidden high-powered rifle and the bullets that were splintering the old
oak spokes. When the roaring wagon struck a loose stone or rough spot
in its trackless path it wobbled and hesitated. Yet, jerked, steadied,
halted and started by means of the long cable, it rolled to within
twenty yards of its mark. There it pitched a bit, recovered and for
another ten yards sailed down a smooth piece of ground. The cowboys
were yelling their loudest when a lucky shot from the cabin knocked off
a second felloe. A second and third shot smashed rapidly through the
spokes of the staggering wheel. A threatening boulder lying to the
right