The Bluffton news. [volume] (Bluffton, Ohio) 1875-current, 1939-03-16

to the next. 1IAeS SSItlOnS OF renee
were cut and the wires on the
ground before squirt of flame
flashed out of the black shadows
ahead. simultaneously lone bullet
whined past.
He Strengthened, and in the ST.
lence that followed the guns crack.
his voice burst sharply:
Ranger hereV
A sudden rush of hoofs and a rat
tle of pistol fire all but drowned the
answering shout. ITO hell with the
| Ranger!"
After that guns crashed from ev-
ervwhere. AS he sprang to his horse
and faced the opposite edge of
woods. jackson and his cowpunch-
| ers charged up behind him. Breck
leaped Kit in with them and they
swept across the bald dome. The
woods turned red with stabs of
fame. Involuntarily he lodged.
Enough shots were being fired to
wipe out the dozen men in a second.
vet they rushed on. One horse fell:
/ its rider limped back toward the
fence.
At the forests edge the two bands
came together, and there real fight
ing be gan Jackson, astride a tall
gray horse, was suddenly engulfed
between two forms. Breck wheeled
Kit that way, and caught blow
from a knotted rope between his
eyes. He struck up with his gun
to ward off a second blow.
Nothing was plain in the dark
ness. Horses thudded together,
drew apart. Lariats whirled. A
loop caught one horse by the fore
feet; he plunged headlong and a
mans body turned twice in mid-air.
Cowpunchers from each side were
too closely packed to allow guns.
Firing had ceased. There sounded
only the swish of ropes, grunted
curses, one voice shouting as if that
mass could obey his command.
Then suddenly above all else rose
a thunder of cattle on the run. They
had poured past the break in the
fence and now, in one wave, were
sweeping across the bald dome.
Breck caught sight of them through
the open trees, spurred Kit from
their path, and with other men, left
the fight to dash from that un-
checked rush.
One rider, racing at an angle in
front of him, turned in his saddle
and fired a last shot. The range
was no more than twenty feet.
Breck felt a slash of fire along his
cheek, then knew the full fury of
fighting blood. The figure entered
a lane of trees. Breck followed at
a run down the long mountain spur.
Over Kits lowered head, as swift
and regular as clock ticks, he shot,
aiming a little to the left of the
man, wanting prisoner rather than
corpse. The automatic held ten
shells in its clip. Until six were
fired the figure ahead showed no
signs of halting. At seven he wa
vered in his saddle. At nine he
threw up his hands, bracing himself
as his horse stopped with all feet
dug into the earth.
| Breck rode down beside him.
The fellow turned, gaping with
wonder. For Gods sake, what'er
you shootin'? counted 'em. Nine
and still goin'i"
There is one more and that's
plenty" Breck answered. Nov you
turn face front and keep your hands
high"
He reached across, lifted the
mans gun, then drove him upward
to a point where they could climb
back to open ground. The herd had
spread out by now; he could hear
calls, and voices answering from
near the drift fence. Presently a
fire guided him.
| Jackson's tall gray horse came
first into sight, then he recognized
one of the cowpunchers and rode to
where they were gathering. The
old cattleman was sitting on log,
trousers rolled up from a bloody
leg.
Breck ordered his prisoner to the
ground and dismounted. Only six
men were at the fire. "Aint all here
yet," said Jackson. Were just
waitin' Likely some of us will have
to 60 hunt pretty SOON"
The little group stood in silence.
One by one others rode in, reached
the ground, questioned with their
eyes but said nothing. Soon there
were ten.
| MACS yonder," the last arrival
reported, pointing further along the
fence. Legs broke"
"You, Fred" Jackson ordered,
"take him a horse" He straight
ened from dressing his own wound
and looked around the group. "Ten
here. Mac makes eleven. Who's
missin'?"
| where's Johnny?" someone
asked.
Before an answer could be given
the distant crack of a gun broke
through the night. Three shots
came slowly, telling of deliberate
aim.
| Breck leaped to his horse, finging
back as he lunged away, Hold that
prisoner here!"
Complete Stiffness had come after
the three slow shots. There was
something horrible in the cool way
of firing. He pictured the boy, ruth
lessly shot down, lying somewhere
in the canyon below.