"They're going for the house, and Sally's inside there," cried Steel; and for the first time I remembered that the dwelling was unprotected, and feared that the girl had not slipped away, as she might have done by a rear window.
One of Lane's men reached the threshold before we did, and three or four others followed hard upon his heels. The door was wide open, and I sincerely trusted that Sally had made her escape. She had not, however, for the handle of a long brush swung out, and the first ruffian who rushed at the entrance staggered backwards against the comrade behind him. Steel flung him headlong the next moment; the rest yielded passage before the tines of the fork, and we sprang into the house, while our enemy's reinforcements came up at a run. So far we had succeeded better than might have been expected, but our adversaries were growing furious, and the defense of our property no longer appeared the main question. The girl had dropped the brush and grasped a red-ended iron bar.
"Give it to me, and reach down that rifle, Sally," I gasped, and while Steel dragged up furniture for a barricade, the rest, not knowing its magazine was empty, recoiled before the Winchester muzzle.
"I'll be through in another minute. Keep them out," Steel said.
A brief respite followed, for the iron was glowing still, and our enemies' supply of missiles was evidently exhausted; but as we waited, wondering what would happen next, I heard a beat of hoofs, and Sally cried out triumphantly as three well-mounted men swept up at a gallop.
"Ride over them!" shouted somebody. Warning cries went up, there was a scattering of Lane's ruffians, and the leading horseman pulled up his beast just outside the door. He was dripping with perspiration, bespattered all over, and his horse was white with lather.
"Couldn't get through earlier. Jacques' boys are away, but we sent a man to look for them, and he'll bring them along," he said.
We were very glad to see Rancher Gordon and his sturdy followers, though it was bad news he brought. Further reinforcements could hardly arrive in time to be of service, and where we had expected more than a dozen we must be content with three. Meanwhile, Lane's men had mounted and were trotting off across the prairie.
"They have probably gone in search of the loose stock. Come in. We have got to talk over our next step," I said.
The newcomers did so, and we were all glad of a breathing space. My head was somewhat badly cut, several purple bruises adorned my comrade's countenance, and the rest had ridden a long way in furious haste. At first the conference was conducted in half-breathless gasps, then the voices deepened into a sonorous ring, and I can recall the intent bronzed faces turned towards me, the thoughtful pauses when each speaker had aired his views, and how the slanting sunlight beat into the partly shadowed room. Last of all Rancher Gordon spoke: "We are waiting to hear your notions, Ormesby."