“You’re right,” said Rathburn, letting down his shirt sleeve. “A bullet from The Coyote’s gun left that mark.”
The men looked at him wonderingly and respectfully.
“You boys live here?” asked Rathburn.
“Sure,” was the reply. “We work in the Pine Knot Hotel an’ stables. You from the hills?”
“Yep,” answered Rathburn. “Cow-puncher an’ horseshoer an’ one thing an’ another. What’s he doing now?” He again turned his attention to the scene within the resort, as did the two men with him.
The bandit was backing away from the bar toward the rear of the room, still keeping his guns thrust out before him, menacing the men who stood with uplifted hands.
“You can tell your funny judge that I called!” he sang out as he reached the rear door. “An’ now, gents,” he continued in an excited voice, “it won’t go well with the man that tries to get out this back way too soon.”
As he ceased speaking his guns roared. The two large hanging lamps, suspended from the ceiling in the center, went out to the accompaniment of 35 shattered glass crashing on the floor. The three smaller lamps above the back bar next were cut to splinters by bullets and the place was in total darkness.
Then there was silence, save for the sound of a horse’s hoofs coming from somewhere behind the building.
Rathburn drew back from the window as a match flared within and his two companions moved toward the front door. He stole around the corner of the building and started on a run for the rear. He stopped when he heard a horse galloping toward the east end of the street behind the buildings which lined that side. He hurried behind two buildings which did not extend as far as the resort and hastened up the street. He did not once look back.