..Alaman left!...Swing
your pardners!...Forward an' back!...Turn the lady, turn!" Gale
got into the fight himself, not so sure that he hit any of the
round, bobbing objects he aimed at, but growing sure of himself
as action liberated something forced and congested within his
breast.
Then over the position of the rangers came a hail of steel bullets.
Those that struck the lava hissed away into the crater; those that
came biting through the choyas made a sound which resembled a
sharp ripping of silk. Bits of cactus stung Gale's face, and he
dreaded the flying thorns more than he did the flying bullets.
"Hold on, boys," called Ladd, as he crouched down to reload his
rifle. "Save your shells. The greasers are spreadin' on us, some
goin' down below Yaqui, others movin' up for that high ridge. When
they get up there I'm damned if it won't be hot for us. There ain't
room for all of us to hide here."
Ladd raised himself to peep over the rim. Shots were now
scattering, and all appeared to come from below. Emboldened by
this he rose higher. A shot from in front, a rip of bullet through
the choya, a spat of something hitting Ladd's face, a steel missle
hissing onward--these inseparably blended sounds were all registered
by Gale's sensitive ear.
With a curse Ladd tumbled down into the hole. His face showed a
great gray blotch, and starting blood. Gale felt a sickening
assurance of desperate injury to the ranger. He ran to him calling:
"Laddy! Laddy!"
"Shore I ain't plugged.
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