"You've got gall, shooting our cows!" replied Chick.
"Get 'em up, boy!" snapped Johnny, and Chick slowly raised his arms, speaking rapidly.
"What do you take us for!" shouted Ed Joyce, frantic at his helplessness.
"Coyotes," replied Red. "An' since coyotes don't ride, you get off'n them cayuses, pronto."
"Like h—l!" retorted Ed.
Johnny's rifle cracked and Ed tumbled off his dead horse, and when he arose the air was blue.
"Nex' gent say 'I,'" called Johnny.
"I'll be d——d if I'll stand for that!" yelled Morgan, reaching for his gun. The next thing he knew was that the air was full of comets, and that his horse was dead.
Chick sullenly dismounted and stood watching Red, who was now in vastly better spirits, since the H2 rifles were on the horses and too far away from their owners to be of any use. The range was too great for good revolver shooting even if they could get them into action.
"Watch 'em," said Red, firing. Chick's horse, stung to frenzy by the wound, kicked up its heels and bolted, leaving the three punchers stranded ten miles from home.