d trees, lighted by the one
gleaming window.

"Think they'll follow us?" asked Tuttle, noticing the movement.

"Who? Oh! No, I guess not."

Beyond the town, in the edge of the rising plain, they drew rein and
listened for the sound of pursuing hoof-beats. Facing their horses
roundabout, they bent forward, their hands hollowed behind their ears.
Out of the darkness, where it was gemmed by the lights of the town,
came the sound of galloping horses.

"They're after us!" cried Nick. "Three of 'em!"

Mead took off his sombrero and as his left hand sent it twirling
through the air, a vague, black shape in the darkness, his right drew
his revolver from its holster and three quick, sharp explosions
flashed through the night. A pressure of his heels, and he was leaning
far over from his darting horse and snatching the hat as it barely
touched the gray earth. He held it up toward the sky and in the
starlight three bullet holes showed dimly through the crown, inside
the space a silver dollar could cover. Ellhorn waved his hat and sent
his peculiar "Whoo-oo-ee-e!" back through the darkness toward the
town. They listened again and heard the pursuing horsemen clattering
over the _acequia_ bridge and into the street through which they had
come.

"I reckon we could keep ahead of 'em if we wanted to," said Mead, "but
we'll make the pass, and then if they are still following we'll teach
them some manners."

Ellhorn shouted out again his yell of defiance and clicked the trigger
of his gun to follow it with a challenging volley of bullets, but Mead
stopped him with a cautioning word that they might need all their
cartridges.

They spurred their horses forward again and galloped over the rolling
foothills, neck to neck and heel to heel. The cool, dry night air
streamed into their faces, braced their nerves and filled their hearts
with exultation. Behind them they could hear the hoof-beats of their
pursuers, now gaining on them and again falling behind. On and on they
went, sometimes sending back a defiant yell, but for the most part
riding silently. They reached the steep grade leading to the mountain
pass and eased their horses, letting them walk slowly up the incline.
But the others took it at a furious pace, and presently, at the
entrance to the pass, a voice shouted Mead's name and ordered him to
halt. Mead, laughing aloud, sent a pistol ball whizzing back through
the darkness. Ellhorn and Tuttle followed his example, and the