The log cabin Democrat., 1909-11-04

than anything but sheer recklessness would have prompted, hastened across the waste. His rife lay in his hand, and he had pushed his horse to a run. single fearful instinct crowded now upon the long strain of the week. A savage fascination burned like fever In his veins, and he meant that they should not get away. Taking chances that would have shamed him in cooler moments, he forced his horse at the end of the long ride to within 100 paces of the river, threw his lines, slipped like lizard from the saddle. and. darting with incredible swiftness from rock to rock, gained the waters edge
 From up the long shadows of the wash there came the vail of an OWL From it he knew that Wickwire had seen them and was warning him, but he had anticipated the warning and stood below where the hunted men must ride. He strained his eyes over the waste of rock above. For one half hour of daylight he would have sold. in that moment, ten years Of his life. What could he do if they should be able to secrete themselves until dark between him and Wickwire? Gliding under cover of huge rocks up the dry watercourse, he reached a spot where the floods had scooped long, hollow curve out of soft ledge in the bank, leaving a stretch of smooth sand on the bed of the stream. At the upper point great powders pushed out of the river. He could not inspect the curve from the spot he had gained without reckless exposure, but he must force the little daylight left to him. Climbing completely over the lower point, he advanced cautiously, and from behind sheltering spur stepped out upon an oyerhanging table of rock and looked across the river bottom. Three men had halted on the sand within the curve. Two lay on their rifles under the upper point. 120 paces from Whispering Smith. The third man, Seagrue, less than 50 yards away. had got off his horse and was laying down his rife, when the hoot- owl screeched again and he looked un- easily back. They had chosen for their halt a spot easily defended, and needed only darkness to make them safe. when Smith. stepping out into plain sight, threw forward his hand.
 They heard his sharp call to pitch up, and the men under the point jumped. Seagrue had not yet taken his hand from his rife. He threw it to his shoulder. As closely together as two fingers of the right hand can be struck twice in the palm of the left, two rifle shots cracked across the wash. Two bullets passed so close in flight they might have struck. One cut the dusty hair from Smiths temple and slit the brim of his hat above his ear; the other struck Seagrue under the left eye. plowed through the roof of his mouth, and, coming out below his ear, splintered the rock at his back.
 The shock alone would have stag. gered bullock, but Seagrue, laughing. came forward pumping his gun. Sin clair, at 120 yards, cut instantly into the fight, and the ball from his rife creased the alkali that crusted Whis- pering Smiths unshaven cheek. AS he fired he sprang to cover.
 For Seagrue and Smith there was no cover; for one or both it was death in the open and Seagrue, with his rife at his cheek. walked straight into it. Taking for a moment the fire of the three guns. Whispering Smith stood, a perfect target, outlined against the sky. They whipped the dust from his coat, tore the sleeve from his wrist and ripped the blouse collar from his neck; but he felt no bullet shock. He, saw before him only the buckle ok Seagrues belt 40 paces away, and sent, bullet after bullet at the gleam of brass between the sights. Both men were using high-pressure guns, and the deadly shocks of the slugs made Seagrue twitch and stagger. The man was dying as he walked Smiths hand was racing with the lever, and had cartridge damned, the steel would have snapped like match.
 CTO BE CONCLUDED)