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Their confusion of the first moment passed instantly, and they rode straight at Tresler's line of defense with a determination that threatened to overwhelm it and force a passage. But the coming of the cowpunchers stemmed the tide and hurled them back on Fyles's force in their rear. Several riderless horses escaped in the mêlée; nor were they only belonging to the raiders.
Something in Tresler's tone had brought a light to their eyes which he was glad to see. "What is 't?" asked Jacob, eagerly. "Ay," protested Raw; "no bluffin'." "There's no bluffing about me," Tresler said quickly. "I'm dead in earnest. Here, listen, boys. I want you all to go out quietly, one by one. It's eight miles to Widow Dangley's.
"Say, I've got a mighty sick man here," he cried, directly he heard the choreman moving. "Git around an' lend a hand; gentle, too." "That you, Arizona?" Joe, half awake, questioned, blinking up at the horseman in the faint light. "I guess; an' say, 'fore I git answerin' no fool questions, git a holt on this notion. Red Mask's bin around Willow Bluff, an' Tresler's done up. Savee?"
But even as he called Jake spoke. "It ain't no good," he said, in a hoarse tone. "I'm done. Done up by that lyin' son-of-a , 'Tough' McCulloch. I might 'a' known. Guess I flicked him sore." He paused as the sound of running feet came from the bunkhouse and Arizona's voice was calling to know Tresler's whereabouts. Then the foreman's great frame gave a shiver.
The rancher took him up sharply. "What do you mean?" "Arizona has no love for Anton." "Ah! And Jake. Who found him? Who was there when he died?" Marbolt's eyes had fixed themselves on Tresler's face. And the latter had no hesitation in suiting his reply to his own purpose. "I found him dead; quite dead. His death must have been instantaneous." "So." Marbolt turned back to the bed.
Instantly Fyles's voice rang out. "Halt, or we fire!" he cried. The horsemen drew rein at once, but the reply was a pistol-shot in the direction whence his voice had sounded. The defiance was Tresler's signal. He passed the word to his men, and a volley of carbine-fire rang out at once, and confusion in the ranks of the horsemen followed immediately. Then the battle began in deadly earnest.
"It comes once in a man's lifetime, and it comes for good or ill." "Twice me." The hard fact nipped Tresler's sentimental mood in the bud. "Ah!" The other continued his study of the sky-line. "Yup," he said at last. "One died, an' t'other didn't hatch out." "I see." It was no use attempting sympathy.
It sent him reeling backward with a howl of pain, like a child at the slash of an admonishing cane. And Jake's hands went up to his wounds at once; but, even so, his movements were not swift enough to protect him from a second slash of the vengeful thong. And Tresler's aim was so swift and sure that the bully fell to the ground like a pole-axed steer.
"Yes, Mosquito Bend," he said sharply. "Nigh to a mile on. Keep to the trail, an' you'll strike Blind Hell in a few minutes. Say " He broke off, and looked up into Tresler's face. "Yes, I'm going there. You don't happen to belong to to Blind Hell?" "Happen I do," assured the washerman. "I do the chores around the ranch. Joe Nelson, once a stock raiser m'self. Kerrville, Texas.
He'd climbed a mount'n. It was pretty high. Ther' wa'n't no shelter. A gust o' that wind come an' took him." Nelson had turned back to his tubs, and was again banging and rubbing. "A mile down the trail, I think you said?" Tresler cried, springing hastily into the saddle. "Sure." And for the first time Tresler's horse felt the sharp prick of the spurs as he rode off.
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