eblo. "It was them we heard shootin'." The outfit sat silent on their
horses and watched the men ride over the plains toward another group of
horsemen that the Diamond K men had observed some time before riding
toward the pueblo,

"Yep!" Barkwell said, now; "that other bunch is deputies, too. It's mighty
plain. This bunch rounded up 'Firebrand' an' sent some one back for
reinforcements." He swept the Diamond K outfit with a snarling smile.
"They're goin' to need 'em, too! I reckon we'd better wait for them to
play their hand. It's about a stand off in numbers. We don't stand no
slack, boys. We're outlawed already, from the ruckus of last night, an' if
they start anything we've got to wipe 'em out! You heard 'em shootin' at
the boss, an' they ain't no pussy-kitten bunch! I'll do the gassin'--if
there's any to be done--an' when I draw, you guys do your damnedest!"

The outfit set itself to wait. Over on the edge of the pueblo they could
see Trevison. He was bending over something, and when they saw him stoop
and lift the object, heaving it to his shoulder and walking away with it,
a sullen murmur ran over the outfit, and lips grew stiff and white with
rage.

"It's Clay Levins, boys!" said Barkwell. "They've plugged him! Do you
reckon we've got to go back to Levins' shack an' tell his wife that we let
them skunks get away after makin' orphants of her kids?"

"I'm jumpin'!" shrieked Jud Weaver, his voice coming chokingly with
passion. "I ain't waitin' one damned minute for any palaver! Either them
deputies is wiped out, or I am!" He dug the spurs into his horse, drawing
his six-shooter as the animal leaped.

Weaver's horse led the outfit by only three or four jumps, and they swept
over the level like a devastating cyclone, the spiral dust cloud that rose
behind them following them lazily, sucked along by the wind of their
passing.

The group of deputies had halted; they were sitting tense and silent in
their saddles when the Diamond K outfit came up, slowing down as they drew
nearer, and halting within ten feet of the others, spreading out in a
crude semi-circle, so that each man had an unobstructed view of the
deputies.

Barkwell had no chance to talk. Before he could get his breath after
pulling his horse down, Weaver, his six-shooter in hand, its muzzle
directed fairly at Gieger, who was slightly in advance of his men, fumed
forth:

"What in hell do you-all mean by tryin' to herd-ride our boss? Talk fast,
you e