hey were shootin' like hell, he said. But he got a start an' he fooled
'em. Lost 'em, if they tried to foller him."

"And led 'em straight here," said Plimsoll with a curse, getting to his
feet.

"Not him. He c'ud lose 'em twenty times between here an' Sand Crick.
They were throwin' lead hard an' fast an' too busy to trail him if they
saw him. He's gone out ag'in through the south end. Case they've got
some one who does know the way in, he'll side-track by Spur Rock an' git
through the pass at Nipple Peaks. It's hard goin', but we can make it
unless we can git out this end. Hahn an' Butch has gone up to the
lookout to.... Hear that?"

_That_ was a single rifle-shot, followed by two others, the last almost
as one.

"Hell!" cried Plimsoll, "they've got us this end. It's Wyatt. Just my
damned luck for him to meet up with Brandon."

"Butch says it was the deal with that chap from Phoenix. He allus
spotted him for a crooked one. They've planted hawsses on us to prove
up. And Wyatt has been in touch with Brandon ever sense you took his
gel away from him. Come on, I'm goin'."

He ran outside and Plimsoll followed to the door, lethargy leaving him
in the face of disaster though he could not think fast or clearly. Hahn
came clattering over the rocks on his horse, his face chalky white. He
was reeling in his saddle, the horse spraddling, wild-eyed, almost out
of control. Cookie jumped for its bridle as Hahn slumped sidewise in the
saddle, clutched for the horn, missed it and was falling when Plimsoll
caught him and helped him to the wall of the cabin where he leaned
weakly. A blotch of blood showed on his left shoulder.

"Go get him a slug of whisky," Plimsoll ordered Cookie.

But Cookie, his face twitching with fright, jumped for his own mount and
went galloping down the valley to the south.

Plimsoll sent curses after him, reaching for his own pistol before he
remembered it was inside, dragging Hahn's half out of its holster and
then quitting as the fleeing cook tangented and disappeared behind some
timber.

The handkerchief about Plimsoll's wounded wrist was now a sodden rag,
but the loss of blood had cleared his brain. He set his left arm about
Hahn and helped him into the cabin. Molly was stirring and Plimsoll
scowled blackly at her. He gave Hahn a drink.

"Brace up," he said, "what happened? I know about Reynolds. I mean at
the lookout."

Hahn finished his glass, pushed it out for another, gulped that.

"Go