It's a damn choya burr. The bullet knocked
it in my face. Pull it out!"
The oval, long-spiked cone was firmly imbedded in Ladd's cheek.
Blood streamed down his face and neck. Carefully, yet with no
thought of pain to himself, Gale tried to pull the cactus joint
away. It was as firm as if it had been nailed there. That was
the damnable feature of the barbed thorns: once set, they held
on as that strange plant held to its desert life. Ladd began to
writhe, and sweat mingled with the blood on his face. He cursed
and raved, and his movements made it almost impossible for Gale
to do anything.
"Put your knife-blade under an' tear it out!" shouted Ladd,
hoarsely.
Thus ordered, Gale slipped a long blade in between the imbedded
thorns, and with a powerful jerk literally tore the choya out of
Ladd's quivering flesh. Then, where the ranger's face was not
red and raw, it certainly was white.
A volley of shots from a different angle was followed by
the quick ring of steel bullets striking the lava all around Gale.
His first idea, as he heard the projectiles sing and hum and whine
away into the air, was that they were coming from above him. He
looked up to see a number of low, white and dark knobs upon the
high point of lava. They had not been there before. Then he saw
little, pale, leaping tongues of fire. As he dodged down he
distinctly heard a bullet strike Ladd. At the same instant he
seemed to hear Thorne cry out and fall, and Lash's boots scrape
rapidly away.
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