Gale slipped a fresh clip into the
magazine of his rifle. He restrained himself from useless firing and
gave eager eye to the duel below. Ladd began to shoot while Sol was
running. The .405 rang out sharply--then again. The heavy bullets
streaked the dust all the way across the valley. Ladd aimed
deliberately and pulled slowly, unmindful of the kicking dust-puffs
behind Sol, and to the side. The raiders spurred madly in pursuit,
loading and firing. They shot ten times while Ladd shot once, and
all in vain; and on Ladd's sixth shot a raider topped backward, threw
his carbine and fell with his foot catching in a stirrup. The
frightened horse plunged away, dragging him in a path of dust.
Gale had set himself to miss nothing of that fighting race, yet
the action passed too swiftly for clear sight of all. Ladd had
emptied a magazine, and now Blanco Sol quickened and lengthened
his running stride. He ran away from his pursuers. Then it was
that the ranger's ruse was divined by the raiders. They hauled
sharply up and seemed to be conferring. But that was a fatal
mistake. Blanco Sol was seen to break his gait and slow down
in several jumps, then square away and stand stockstill. Ladd fired
at the closely grouped raiders. An instant passed. Then Gale
heard the spat of a bullet out in front, saw a puff of dust, then
heard the lead strike the rocks and go whining away. And it
was after this that one of the raiders fell prone from his saddle.
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