When the black did lighten to gray they saddled the
horses and led them out to the pass and down to the point where
they had parted with Lash. Here they awaited daylight.
To Gale it seemed long in coming. Such a delay always aggravated
the slow fire within him. He had nothing of Ladd's patience. He
wanted action. The gray shadow below thinned out, and the patch
of mesquite made a blot upon the pale valley. The day dawned.
Still Ladd waited. He grew more silent, grimmer as the time of
action approached. Gale wondered what the plan of attack would
be. Yet he did not ask. He waited ready for orders.
The valley grew clear of gray shadow except under leaning walls
on the eastern side. Then a straight column of smoke rose from
among the mesquites. Manifestly this was what Ladd had been
awaiting. He took the long .405 from its sheath and tried the
lever. Then he lifted a cartridge belt from the pommel of his
saddle. Every ring held a shell and these shells were four inches
long. He buckled the belt round him.
"Come on, Dick."
Ladd led the way down the slope until he reached a position that
commanded the rising of the trail from a level. It was the only
place a man or horse could leave the valley for the pass.
"Dick, here's your stand. If any raider rides in range take a crack
at him....Now I want the lend of your hoss."
"Blanco Sol!" exclaimed Gale, more in amazement that
Ladd should ask for the horse than in reluctance to lend him.
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