"Shore; look it over," shouted Lang. "That's what I'm aimin' to do. I'm aimin' to look it over, right to th' finish. I've allus wondered how a man would act in them sands, an' I'm goin' to find out now. Mebby if yo're polite I'll put you out of yore misery when yore chin gets wet. Then I'll ride over to th' Bar H an' tell 'em who kidnapped th' Doc, an' did for Squint. I've seen shows, but this here is goin' to be th' best of th' lot."
Johnny's eyes glinted and he fired twice in succession—then a third shot after an interval, endeavoring to force Lang to keep his head down while his other hand worked swiftly under his slicker roll. Emptying one gun, he slipped it back into its holster and used the other, still struggling with the slicker. At the last shot in the second weapon he worked Wolf's gun loose and slipped it into the holster on the far side from Lang. Standing up in his stirrups he gave vent to a burst of profanity and hurled his Colts, one after the other, at the hidden observer.
Lang looked up in time to see the first gun bounce from the ground and then the second fell close to it. He laughed nastily and ducked down again as Johnny drew the heavy Sharps from its sheath and sent an ounce of lead smashing into the sand and pebbles close to his head. Another, another, and another struck the top of the ridge, the last striking a rock and screaming high into the air. Then Johnny gripped the heavy weapon at its muzzle with both hands, stood up in his stirrups, whirled it around his head and sent it through the air towards the hidden man. It struck loose sand and slid ten feet in a little cloud of dust. The Triangle puncher looked out again, chuckled, and slowly emerged from his place of refuge.
"I calls that kind," he laughed. "There wasn't no use of lettin' good weapons like them be lost. I can use 'em all—an' just for that I'm goin' to end yore misery like I said I might. First," he said, going over to the nearest Colt and picking it up, "I'm goin' to load this gun an' do somethin' for my hoss an' that cow." He walked unsteadily toward the edge of the sands, pulling half a dozen cartridges from his belt as he advanced. Reaching the danger zone, he tried each step before putting his weight into it and slowly advanced to the last tuft of grass, where he stood, swaying slightly as it moved gently under his weight. The sand at its outer edges moved a little and changed color as the water flooded and receded in it. "Reckon this is th' jumpin' off place," he said. "You'd be plumb tickled if I fell in, wouldn't you?" he jeered. "Well, I ain't aimin' to. I'm figgerin' on loadin' this gun—this way: Number One," he said, sliding a cartridge into the cylinder, "is for my hoss; Number Two is for th' cow; Number Three is for a hole through yore hat; this one is for yore hoss when only its head is out, or as soon as you jump off. I'm givin' you that chance to help it—an' to save my valuable time; these two are for yore head when yore chin gets under. One'll be enough, but two will be dead shore—I might miss th' first to hear you cuss."
Lang raised the Colt and put his horse out of its misery; then he did the same for the cow. "That's what I call fair shootin'," he said. "Of course, you might 'a' done it faster—but I'm in no hurry. Now, this next shot has got to be dead shore if I put it high enough in yore hat to miss yore head—an' I ain't aimin' to hit that yet. So if I takes plenty of time, don't you get jumpy."
He raised the gun above his head to increase the torment and there was a flash and roar at Johnny's hip. The Triangle puncher's hand opened and the gun dropped behind him as a look of great surprise flashed to his face, and remained there. Twisting sideways, he fell face down, sprawled full length upon the greedy sands.
"There, d—n you!" gritted Johnny. "Th' show's over, for you!" He brought the gun back on its mark, but did not release the hammer again. There was no doubt, this time, about Lang. He let the hammer down on an empty chamber and slid the weapon back in his holster.
Reassuring Pepper, he glanced down and saw that her legs were being pulled to the sides, which sprawled them out. "Slow," he said, and looked again to make sure. "Mighty slow. This stuff is different in places—but d—d sure," he added bitterly. "You take it easy, Pepper Girl. I won't let it last much longer—'though it's goin' to take a lot of nerve. Good little hoss—good little Pepper Girl."
He now knew there was no hope of riding out. He knew quicksands—he had seen them on other ranges, but never such a one as this, for the others had been small—the size of this bed was far beyond his experience. He studied it and watched the tremors running through it—the sand seemed to be moving and new surfaces to be forming. Wet spots appeared, became covered with water and then were uncovered again as it drained away. Hollows slowly formed here, slight bulges there, but with no stability. Undulations showed frequently near the bodies, which were slowly sinking. The cow was nearly under. This trap had no definite edges, for it met and merged with the honest sands around it in such a way as to show no lines; but he knew, by looking at the tracks of his horse, which, strangely enough, had not been quite obliterated, that he was too far from firm ground to have any hope of getting out in that direction. He cogitated upon the possibilities of escape in other directions, for it was possible that along some other course he might find firm earth closer to him. To his right was a grass tuft, not as far from him as was the place where Lang's body marked the other edge, but it lay too far away. Behind him the nature of the sands was evident for a like distance, and questionable for half as far again. To his left was the Triangle horse, which he could gain by leaping from his saddle; beyond that, half as far, was the cow, still useful if used soon enough and not rested on for too long. He believed that the cow could not have crossed much of the sands before becoming mired, and this gave him renewed hope. It was the only way worth trying with a chance of success. At the best it would be a gamble, but while those two bodies remained above the surface they would serve as stepping stones. From the body of the horse he would do the last kind act in his power for Pepper, and then, throwing away the gun to save its weight, jump to the cow. This would be easy; but from there on he would need all his strength and wits and will. Looking beyond the cow, he searched for something to put his rope on, and found nothing nearer than the fence posts, which were too far away. And then, while he looked, he saw water ooze up and cover the sand some distance beyond the cow, and he admitted that his case was hopeless; and as he admitted it the cow disappeared from sight.