Chapter XVII

A Running Fight

A rifle-shot forced instant action. Jim
whirled away from the camp-fire and saddlebags
and sprang toward the horses, while Johnsoa,
leaping up with the agile twist of an athlete,
gained his feet running. Jim headed grimly for
Pat, but Johnson reached him a breath in advance.
Snatching up the reins and mounting, he dug Pat
viciously with his huge rowels. At that Pat
balked. The man swore and cursed and spurred
again; but the horse remained obdurate. Seeing
this, Johnson stopped spurring. Thereupon Pat
flung forward, dragging his tether clear of its
stake, and crowded close beside the gray. Jim was
mounted on the gray, bending low in the saddle,
racing in frantic pursuit of Glover. Mounted on
the sorrel, Glover was well in the lead, speeding
straight into the west, riding at right angles to the
ridge, galloping hard for the open desert. The
echo of the shot reverberated again faintly, and
around them closed a tense silence.

Others were making for the open. Out of the
underbrush, riding easily, burst a handful of
rangers. Stephen was one of them. As they

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