sed with a frying pan in his hands and looked through
the window after the departing marshal, and saw him stagger, stumble
forward, then jerk out his guns and begin firing. Hard firing now burst
out in front and Jackson, cursing angrily, dropped the pan and reached
for his rifle--to drop it also and sink down, struck by the bullet which
drilled through the window. Johnny let out a yell of rage, grabbed his
Colt, and ran to the door in time to see Edwards slowly raise up on one
elbow, fire his last shot, and fall back riddled by bullets.

Jackson crawled to his rifle and then to the side window, where he
propped his back against a box and prepared to do his best. "It was
shore a surprise," he swore. "An' they went an' got Edwards before he
could do anything."

"They did not!" retorted Johnny. "He--" the glass in the door vibrated
sharply and the speaker, stepping to one side out of sight, with a new
and superficial wound, opened fire on the building down the street.
Two men were lying on the ground across the street--these Edwards
had shot--and another was trying to drag himself to the shelter of a
building. A man sprinted from an old corral close by in a brave and
foolhardy attempt to save his friend, and Johnny swore because he had to
fire twice at the same mark.

The rear door crashed open and shut as Barr, closely followed by Neal,
ran in. They had been caught in the corral but, thanks to Harlan's
whiskey, had managed to hold their own until they had a chance to make a
rush for the store.

"Where's the marshal?" cried Barr, catching sight of Jackson. "Are you
plugged bad?" he asked, anxiously.

"Well, I ain't plugged a whole lot _good_!" snapped Jackson. "An'
Edwards is dead. They shot him down without warning. We're going to get
ours, too--these walls don't stop them bullets. How many out there?"

"Must be a dozen," hastily replied Neal, who had not remained idle. Both
he and Barr were working like mad men moving boxes and barrels against
the walls to make a breastwork capable of stopping the bullets which
came through the boards.

"I reckon--I'm bleeding inside," Jackson muttered, wearily and without
hope. "Wonder how--long we--can hold out?"

"We'll hold out till we're good an' dead!" replied Johnny, hotly. "They
ain't got us yet an' they'll pay for it before they do. If we can hold
'em off till Buck an' the rest come back we'll have the pleasure of
seeing 'em buried."

"Oh, I'll get you next time!" ass