They loped along
easily, picking automatically the safest places whereon to set their feet, and
leaving their riders free to attend to other important matters which proved
their true value as horses that knew their business.
Soon the draw shallowed until they found themselves out in the open, with the
square-topped mountain five miles or so ahead and a little to the left; a
high, untraversable sandstone ledge to their right, and what looked like plain
sailing straight ahead past the mountain.
Applehead twisted his body in the saddle and gave a grunt. "Throw some lead
back at them hombres, Lite," he snapped. "And make a killin' if yuh kin. It'll
make 'em mad, but it'll hold 'em back fer a spell."
Lite, the crack rifle-shot of Luck's company and the man who had taught Jean
Douglas to shoot with such wonderful precision, wheeled his horse short around
and pulled him to a stand, lined up his rifle sights and crooked his finger on
the trigger. And away back there among the Indians a pony reared, and then
pitched forward.
"I sure do bate to shoot down a horse," Lite explained shamefacedly, "but I
never did kill a man--"
"We-ell, I calc'late mebby yuh will, 'fore you're let out from this yere
meetin'," Applehead prophesied drily.
Pages:
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214