He didn’t like the way the men were closing in on the trapped rider. Their actions were too deadly, they were firing too calmly. It was evident that they did not intend that their victim should get out alive. It wasn’t a fair fight and Slim took a substantial interest in the argument as he snuggled the smooth, walnut butt of the Winchester against his cheek.
With keen eye and steady fingers, he drew a bead on the nearest rifleman. But the man’s back was toward him. He couldn’t shoot without warning. Slim relaxed slightly and sent a ringing call echoing over the valley.
“Hi-yuh! Hi-yuh! What’s going on there?”
The firing ceased abruptly and two astonished riflemen swung toward him, their weapons ready for instant action. But Slim, sprawled atop the big boulder, was practically invisible at that distance. There was no sound from the man trapped in the canyon.
“What’s going on here?” Slim shouted again.
He must have raised his head slightly, for one of the riflemen made a snap shot and a bullet splattered on the boulder less than three feet away.
That was a declaration of war and Slim accepted the challenge. He could have shot the others down in cold blood, but he had given them a chance--two chances.
The shot fired at Slim was still echoing over the valley when the cowboy from the Flying Arrow fired twice. There was a sharp cry of pain from one of the riflemen and Slim heard a gun clatter to the rocks. He had aimed for an elbow which had appeared for just a second around one side of a boulder. Evidently his aim had been true.
The man trapped in the canyon had joined in the fight again and the riflemen were caught between two fires, with Slim on the one side and the unknown on the other. They had little desire to expose themselves to the deadly marksmanship of Slim and were content to wait until darkness.
Slim held up his own fire. It was a waste of lead to blaze away recklessly and the chances of hitting anyone were extremely remote.