esitated, and flung the
gun from him. "God Almighty--I ought to--but I can't!" He had seen
Corliss fall and thought that he had been killed. He saw a Mexican
raise his gun to fire; saw him suddenly straighten in the saddle. Then
the gun dropped from his hand, and he bent forward upon his horse,
recovered, swayed a moment, and fell limply.

Bud Shoop, on foot, ran around to the rear of the house. His horse lay
kicking, shot through the stomach. The foreman drew himself up under
cover of the hen-house and fired into the huddle of Mexicans that swept
around the yard as the riders of the Concho drove them back. He saw
"Bull" Cassidy in the thick of it, swinging his guns and swearing
heartily. Finally a Mexican pony, wounded and wild with fright, tore
through the barb-wire fence. Behind him spurred the herders. Out on
the mesa they turned and threw lead at the Concho riders, who retreated
to the cover of the house. Corliss caught up a herder's horse and rode
around to them. Shorty, one of his men, grinned, fell to coughing, and
sank forward on his horse.

"Loring's down," said Wingle, solemnly reloading his gun. "Think they
got enough, Jack?"

"Loring, eh? Well, I know who got him. Yes, they got enough."

Shorty, vomiting blood, wiped his lips on his sleeve. "Well, I
ain't--not yet," he gasped. "_I'm_ goin' to finish in a blaze of
glory. Come on, boys!" And he whirled his horse. Swaying drunkenly
he spurred around the corner of the house and through the gateway.

Corliss glanced at Wingle. "We can't let him ride into 'em by his
lonesome," said Wingle. "Eh, boys?"

"Not on your fat life!" said Bull Cassidy. "I got one wing that's
workin' and I'm goin' to fly her till she gits busted."

"Let's clean 'em up! Might's well do a good job now we're at it.
Where's Bud?"

"He's layin' over there back of the chicken-roost. Reckon he's
thinkin' things over. He ain't sayin' much."

"Bud down, too? Then I guess we ride!" And they swept out after
Shorty. They saw the diminutive cowboy tear through the band of
herders, his gun going; saw his horse stumble and fall and a figure
pitch from the saddle and roll to one side. "And if I'm goin'--I want
to go out that way," shouted Bull Cassidy. "Shorty was some sport!"

But the Mexicans had had enough of it. They wheeled and spurred toward
the south. The Concho horses, worn out by the night-journey, were soon
distanced.

Corliss pulled up. "Catch up