"All but Harris," the voice called back. "He stays!"
She threw up the rifle she carried and touched it off at a crack near the shop door. As the splinters flew from the edge of the log a figure sprang past the door for the safety of the opposite side and she shot again, then emptied the magazine at a crevice on the side where he had taken refuge.
"Get back inside, damn you!" a voice shouted. "We're going to wreck the Three Bar—and you with it if you stand in the way. Get back out of line!"
Harris knew that the men would not be deterred in their purpose—would sacrifice her along with the rest if necessary to accomplish their end.
"Get back, Billie," he called from the bunk house. "You can't do us any good out there. Take the little cabin and sit tight. We'll beat them off."
A haze of smoke showed through the storeroom door, a bright tongue of flame leaping back of it.
She turned to the door but Waddles had barred it behind her.
"Take the little house, Pet," he urged. "Like Cal said. You'll be safe enough. We'll give 'em hell."
She walked to the little cabin that stood isolated and alone, the first building ever erected on the Three Bar and which had sheltered the Harrises before her father had taken over the brand.
The smoke had spread all along the row of buildings and hung in an oily black cloud above them, the hungry flames licking up the sides of the dry logs. The men had withdrawn after putting the torch to the row in a dozen spots.