"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
That is the way it sounded. The noise grew louder. The dust-cloud was at the station now. And then, with a fusillade of shots that was well-nigh deafening, the cause of it all came to a sudden stop.
The dust settled and blew away. The cloud parted to reveal several wagons drawn by small but muscular horses. Surrounding the vehicles were half a score of cowboys of the regulation type, save that they did not wear the "chaps," or sheepskin breeches, so often seen in moving picture depictions of the "wild west." Probably the weather was too hot for them, or these cowboys may have gotten rid of them because the garments figured so often in the "movies."
"Cowboys!" cried Russ, with a laugh. "And we thought they were going to attack us!"
"It's one on us, all right," spoke Paul.
"But I have often read of cowboys going on a—on a rampage, I believe it is called—or is it stampede?" asked Miss Dixon, as she stood behind Paul.
"Rampage is right," he informed her.
"Well, maybe that's what they're on now, and they will shoot us after all," she resumed. "Oh, there's one looking right at me!" and she covered her face with her be-ringed hands.
"Probably he hasn't seen a pretty girl in a long time," said Paul, for Miss Dixon was pretty, in a way.
"Oh!" she exclaimed again—and took down her hands.