"We have a way," he announced, "of getting what we want!" And he laid his hand on his gun.
He was quick, but Hall was quicker—his hand snatched out the rifle and he shot from the hip at the leader. Then as the cowboys drew their pistols he plunged into the midst of them, shooting right and left with his carbine. There was a fusillade of pistol shots, the bang of rifles from loop-holes, and as the horses pitched and jostled three men fell down between them and were trampled in the wild stampede. The horses did the rest—they bolted to escape the shooting and their riders soon gave them their heads. It was a rout, but the Bassetts had gone out of their heads with rage and the lust for blood. They had turned berserk in a moment and as the Texans galloped away they shot two more off of their horses. Of the three men who were left, two took to the creek bottom and the other dropped down behind his horse.
"Leave him to me!" ordered Winchester, stepping out into the open, and the killer grabbed for his gun. It was on the wrong side, the one towards the house, and as he reached under his horse's neck Winchester shot at his head and clipped off a part of one ear. The killer jerked back and reached over his horse's neck, only to receive another wound in the arm.
"Get away from that horse!" shouted Winchester fiercely, and then shot it through and through. The killer turned and fled, his broken arm flapping, and the Bassetts let him go. They had had their fill of killing and blood, for three men lay dead in the yard. Of the two wounded who escaped, one was never seen again; and the other, fleeing north, encountered a she bear with cubs, which mangled him so that he died. Only two escaped unhurt, to return to the Slash-knife and tell of the man-killing Bassetts.
BACK FROM THE DEAD
As in desert spaces the bodies of the dead draw vultures from hundreds of miles, so the news of the battle, spread by some mysterious means, brought the "neutrals" to the scene of the killing. They came from distant canyons, from up under the Rim and from the west as far as Clear Creek; and as they gazed at the dead cowboys they muttered among themselves and glanced at the Bassetts, and Hall. There was awe and wonder—and a new respect—in their eyes; for each man had been shot stone dead. Two in the heart and one through the brain, and the horses had been bucking like broncs. That was shooting—and done by the Bassetts.
The story of Winchester's duel passed from lip to lip—how he had put an underbit in Tucker's left ear and broken his arm when he reached over. He it was who had shot Paine through the heart, unless the preacher man had beat him to it; and Bill and Sharps must have got the rest, because the wounds had all been made with a rifle. And so these were the half-Indians that the Scarboroughs had been so scornful of and had called the Dirty Black so-and-sos! They gazed and rode home, and their neighbors returned just to look at the fighting Bassetts. Then they gathered at the store, and what they said there was carried to the crestfallen Scarboroughs.