The man’s next appearance was a few moments later when he walked to the corral, looked in and strolled back to the protection of the stable. Others then appeared, at first exercising the utmost caution, but little by little showing that they believed danger to them had passed.
Hippy Wingate chuckled. His ruse had succeeded, but he knew the end was not yet. At the same time he was groping for the reason for the presence of these prowlers. From their actions he believed that they were trying to steal the ponies, and a moment later he saw them again at work trying to break the locked gate of the corral. They were battering away at it so boldly that he knew they now feared no interruption.
“I’ve got to take a chance,” muttered the Overland Rider, “but I’ll shoot low. Perhaps I won’t hit any of the stock.”
There was no time to lose, for in a few moments those sledge-hammer blows, that were probably delivered with a maul or an axe, must produce results.
Taking as careful aim as he could in the uncertain light, he pulled the trigger and Old Joe Bindloss’s rifle roared.
A yell greeted the shot, by which sign Lieutenant Wingate knew that the bullet had found a mark. He fired again, but this time there was no answering yell. Two men grabbed up one of their number, the party started on a run for the stable and Hippy deliberately fired right into the group. One man staggered and fell. He was quickly dragged away, but not before the Overland Rider had emptied his rifle at them, though, so far as he was able to discover, without results. Accurate shooting was impossible under the conditions.
The rancher’s rifle was now empty, nor did Lieutenant Wingate know where to find more ammunition. He possessed his revolver and a belt of cartridges which would keep him going for some time, provided he were conservative in their use, so the rifle was laid aside and the revolver took its place. A quick examination of the two captives informed him that both were conscious.
“You fellows! Don’t you make a sound or I’ll use the business end of my gun on you,” he warned.
Rifle bullets at this juncture again began ripping through the side of the house, and while they were still crunching about the room with a chilling sound the Overlander, who was on the floor, heard a powerful blow delivered on the door. It was followed by other blows. The ruffians were trying to beat the door down, and already a panel had been shattered.
Hippy hopped to his feet and placed himself before the door, feeling reasonably safe there so long as men were standing in front of it.