Low
down, and to the right, there showed a stab of flame, the roar of an
exploding cartridge, the reek of high-powered gas seemed to fill the
cavern. The bullet passed through Sandy's coat sleeve. If he had held
the match in front of him he would have been shot through heart or
lungs. His right-hand gun barked from his hip, straight for where the
flame had showed, then to right of it, to left, above, his left-hand gun
joining in the merciless probe. No second shot came in answer.

Sandy lit another match. Its flare showed him a sandy floor, slightly
sloping, moist in one place, a charred stick almost at his feet. It was
a pine knot, half burned, and he lighted it easily, advancing toward the
spot where he had flung the shots he knew had silenced whoever had fired
at the first match. He found Hahn, crumpled up, shot through the right
arm and a thigh, besides the other wound in his shoulder. There was not
much life in him, he had suffered a hemorrhage twice before Sandy came;
the shock of the two bullets had brought on another.

Sandy turned him over, brought Keith's flask into play. Hahn looked up
at him and essayed a grin.

"Yo're game all right, Hahn," said Sandy. "You ain't the man I was
lookin' fo', but you fired first. I see I wasn't the first to plug you.
Mebbe I can fix you up a bit?"

Hahn shook his head.

"'Twouldn't be a mite of use," he said huskily. "I'm empty of blood as a
prohibition flask. I reckon it will be prohibition for me from now on.
They say it's sure dry where I'm going. No grudge against you, Sandy. I
thought you one of Brandon's gang. They got Butch and me an' they're
chasin' Jim Plimsoll to hell and gone--over Nipple Peaks--if he beats
'em to Spur Rock he'll fool 'em on the black--I couldn't ride--he left
me here--with the girl--but the case is empty and the bank's
bu'sted--cashing--in--time and no chips."

He was wandering in his mind, speaking without control, but Sandy's
mouth tightened at the mention of Nipple Peaks, relaxed again on the
word "girl." He gave Hahn the last few drops of whisky.

"Where in hell'd you get that?" asked the dealer weakly, coughed
violently, collapsed, shuddered, writhed a little and was still before
he could answer Sandy's eager question about Molly.

He found her without much searching, rolled down a little slope beyond
the crevice. Under the light of the torch her eyes looked up at him. Her
hair was in disorder, her raiment torn, her slender body woun