It recalled the barbarism of these savage peons,
and the war of extermination being waged upon the Yaquis.
Suddenly Gale was horrified to see the Yaqui writhe and raise a
feeble hand. The action brought renewed and more savage cries
from the Mexicans. The horse snorted in terror.
Gale could bear no more. He took a quick shot at the rider. He
missed the moving figure, but hit the horse. There was a bound,
a horrid scream, a mighty plunge, then the horse went down, giving
the Mexican a stunning fall. Both beast and man lay still.
Gale rushed from his cover to intercept the other raiders before
they could reach the house and their weapons. One fellow yelled
and ran wildly in the opposite direction; the other stood stricken
in his tracks. Gale ran in close and picked up the gun that had
dropped from the raider leader's hand. This fellow had begun to
stir, to come out of his stunned condition. Then the frightened
horses burst the corral bars, and in a thundering, dust-mantled
stream fled up the arroyo.
The fallen raider sat up, mumbling to his saints in one breath,
cursing in his next. The other Mexican kept his stand, intimidated
by the threatening rifle.
"Go, Greasers! Run!" yelled Gale. Then he yelled it in Spanish.
At the point of his rifle he drove the two raiders out of the camp.
His next move was to run into the house and fetch out the carbines.
With a heavy stone he dismantled each weapon. That done, he set out
on a run for his horse.
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