shoot the black. Occasionally the thieves spread
apart, thus giving a chance for a shot with safe
regard for Pat. But these openings were infrequent.
All they could do was ride in the hope
that the thieves might be seized with panic at last
and give themselves up.

But no such thought came to the fugitives.
Johnson, after his galling experience with Pat,
looked more grimly determined than ever to get
away. Presently he struck back again. He drew
a revolver, rose in his stirrups, and fired twice to
the rear. It was not without result. Up from
the rangers swept a chorus of yells, and Jim, turning
his head, saw the foremost pursuer, the young
man who was evidently not a ranger, circle headlong
over his tumbling horse. He turned to the
front again, and, understanding what would follow,
whipped and spurred furiously. Suddenly
the answer came. The desert awoke in a fusillade
of shots, and Jim saw Glover, who once more was
in the lead, drift out of his saddle, slip down much
as a child descends from its high-chair, and fall to
earth in a crumpled heap. He swerved and dashed
alongside. For an instant he drew rein and
studied the still face. Then he lifted his eyes,
gazing off absently toward the distant sky-line,
the mellow haze in the hills, the shimmering of
heat-waves above the dunes, the glistening reflections
of light off myriads of tiny sand cubes.
Glover -- poor Glover -- had paid the price, and
had paid it in silence.

He wheeled his horse and sped after Johnson.

[[205]]

p204 _ -chap- _ toc-1 _ p205w _ toc-2 _ +chap+ _ p206

v?