"I came—they had horses and were going to kill you—I rode in between so they wouldn't shoot——"
"Good God, girl——"
"Hurry!" she cried, frantically, "they're close behind."
"Horse went lame," he jerked out as he plied quirt and spurs. "Got to make the ferry. Long Bill says the river's broke all records. He's runnin' away. Left his flat-boat tied to a tree. It's only a little ways. You go back! I can make it. Had to knock Bill down to keep him from blockin' my game. Once on that boat, they can't follow."
"But, they're almost here—" Even at the words, a horseman topped the ridge, and with a yell to his followers, plunged toward them.
The Texan scowled darkly: "Go back! They'll never say I hid behind a woman's skirts!"
"I won't go back! Oh, hurry, there's the boat! Two more minutes, and we'll be there! Turn around and shoot! It'll hold 'em!"
"I won't shoot—not when they can't shoot back!"
The foremost horseman was almost upon them when they reached the flat-boat. He was far in advance of the rest, and as the Texan swung to the ground the report of a six-gun rang loud, and a bullet sang over their heads.
The bullet was followed by the sound of a voice: "Shoot, you fool! Keep a-shootin' till you pile onto the boat, an' I'll shoot back. Them hounds back there ain't hankerin' fer no close quarters with you—I told 'em how good you was with yer guns." And Ike Stork followed his words with two shots in rapid succession.