The Leon reporter. (Leon, Iowa) 1887-1930, 1912-12-05
life or death! what have you got, Com

life or death! What have you got, Com
zales? A revolver? Into that win
dow there, and blaze away; you've got
the reputation Of gun-man; now let's
see you prove it. Get back in the cor
ner, miss, so can slip past-no, lie
down below the fire line!"
"But-but will mott" and she faced
him, her face white, but her eyes shin
ing. II can shoot! See!" and she
flashed a pearl-handled revolver def
antly. The Sergeant thrust her un-
tremendously aside and plunged
across to the opposite window, grip
ping his Henry rifle.
do as I say" he growled. This
is our fight. Get down! Now, you
terriers. let them have it,"
There was a wild skurrying of
mounted figures almost at the coach
wheels, hair streaming, feathers wav.
ing, lean, red arms thrown up, the air
vocal with shrill outcries-then the
dull bark Of Henry, the boom Of
Winchester, the sharp splitting of
Colt. The smoke rolled out in
cloud, pungent, concealing, nervous
fingers pressing the triggers again
and again. They could see Keeling
horses, men gripping their ponies
names to keep erect, staring, fright
ened eyes, animals flung back on their
launches, rearing 1nadly in the air.
The fierce yell of exultation changed
into a savage scream. bullets crashed
into the thin sides of the coach; it
rocked with the contact Of half.
naked body flung forward by plung-
ing horse; the Mexican swore wildly
in Spanish, and then-the smoke blew
aside and they saw the field; the dead
and dying ponies. three motionless
bodies huddled on the grass, few
dismounted stragglers racing on foot
for the river bank, and squad Of rid
ers circling beyond the trail. Hamlin
swept the mingled sweat and blood
out of his eyes, smiled grimly, and
glanced back into the coach, instinct.
lively slipping fresh cartridges into his
hot rife.
into hornets nest" he commented
quietly, all trace of excitement van
ished. Better load up, boys, for we're
not through yet-they'll only be more
careful next time. Anybody hurt?"
"Somethin' creased my back" re.
piled Moylan. complainingly, and try.
ing vainly to put hand on the spot.
Felt like a streak o. fire." The Ser.
geant reached across. lingering the
torn shirt cautiously.
Scared the flesh, pardner, but no
blood worth mentioning. They've got
some heavy artillery out there from
the sound-oid army muskets likely. It
is our repeating rifles that will win
out-those red devils don't understand
them yet"
"Senor, you tink we win out den?"
and Gonzales peered up blinking into
the others face. ""acre! dey vii fight
deterrent lie mex time. Re Ameri.
caine muskeet, eet carry so far ess
eet not so?"
Hamlin patted his brown barrel af
tectionately as if it were an old
friend, and smiled across into the
questioning eyes of the girl.
"I'm willing to back this weapon
against the best Of them for distance"
he replied easily, and it's accurate be-
sides. How about it, Moylan?"
"I'd about as soon be in front as be-
hind one of them cannon" answered
the sutler soberly. Il toted one four
years. But say, pardner, what's yer
name? Yer a cavalryman, amt yer?"
"Sergeant-forgot I wasn't properly
introduced" and he bent his head
slightly, glancing again toward the
girl. "Hamlin is the rest of it."
"tBrick' Hamlin?"
Observation-Disclosures reference to
my hair, MISS" and he took on his
hat, his gray eyes laughing. Born
that way, but doesn't seem to inter-
fere with me much, since was kid.
You've heard of me then, Moylan? SO
has our little friend. Gonzales, here"
The sober-faced sutler merely nod
ded, evidently in no mood for pleas.
antry.
ooh, ye're all right" he said finally.
give heard 'em say you was a fighter
down round Santa Fe, an I know 1t
myself now. But what the hell are we
goin' to do. This yere stagecoach
ST.