Williams, keeping under cover, fired slowly and with great precision. Overland Red, utterly unable to manage the Yuma colt under fire, rode up to Williams. "Let's call it off, Brand. I got my man. They was no need of the rest of it. How did it start, anyhow?"
"That's about what the kid said when he let go the wagon on top of the hill. I counted five Gophers down. Billy's hit, and Miguel's goin' to be, the dam' little fool. Look at him!"
The Gophertown men were drawing away toward the cañon. They turned occasionally to throw a shot at Miguel and Pars Long, who followed them.
Bud Light sat his horse, gazing solemnly at the stump of his gun-finger. His shirt was spattered with blood.
Suddenly Williams raised a shrill call. The Moonstone boys wheeled their ponies and rode toward him. Williams pointed up the cañon. Down it rode a group of men who seemed to be undecided in their movements. They would spur forward and then check and circle, apparently waiting for their friends to come up to them. "It's the rest of the Gophertown outfit. We might as well beat it," said Williams. "This here thing's gettin' too popular all to once."
"Did that guy get you?" asked Williams, nodding to Overland.
"Not what you'd notice," replied Overland. "We'll take a drink on the house. She ain't so tidy as she was."
"Neither is the guy behind the bar," said Bud Light, pointing with the stub of his finger to Lusk's face. The saloon-keeper had been hit between the eyes by a chance bullet.
"He's where he belongs," said Williams. "So is this one." And Williams touched Saunders's body with his boot. "Let's drink and vamoose."
"Here's to the kid!" cried Overland, strangely white and shaky.