There was a quick word among the seven men and then they swooped on us. I tell you it was a sudden business that. Down went the sheriff on his knee. And next moment the now familiar smell of powder was in my nostrils. Two of the seven fell and their charge broke and they swept round us to left and right.
"Anybody hit here?" said the sheriff. "Nobody! Guess they don't want to hit you, Apache Kid."
"I 'm getting used to that treatment," said Apache Kid. "It 's not the first time I 've pressed a trigger on seven men who wanted my life—rather than my death," he ended grimly.
"You got to tell me about that, later," said the sheriff. "I gets interested in this seven business more and more every time you refers to it."
"I hope to have the opportunity, at least," said Apache, grimly, "to satisfy your curiosity."
"Look up! Here they come again," the sheriff interjected.
There was another crackle to and fro, a quick pattering of hoofs and flying of tails. One bullet zipped on a granite block in front of me and spattered the splinters in my face. The five wheeled and gathered; one of the fallen men crawled away and lay down in the shadow of a rock to look on at the fight, with a sick face.
"They do look like as they were gatherin' again systematic. Pity about that there mud-slide comin' so sudden," remarked the sheriff again, as though talking to himself more than to us; and then again he cried: "Lookup!"
Down came the five then, bent in their saddles, their right hands in air, apparently determined to make a supreme effort. They were going to try the effect of a dash past, with dropping shots as they came. But at a word from one they wheeled, rode back a distance, and then, spinning round, rode back as you have seen fellows preparing for a running start in a race, wheeled, and then came down in a scatter of dust, and a cry of "Yah! Yah!" to their horses.
Next moment they were past—four of them.