Alkali Sam shouted:
"D'ye want the gal, Dakota?"
"You're shore right I do, old hoss!"
"Cudn't yo hang the li'l editor-chap t' yer watch chain? He don't seem wuth powder."
Stamford glared.
"Keep one bullet," he ordered Isabel. Then he smiled. "They don't seem to like me."
Alkali was shouting a ribald song as he climbed upward for a better shot.
"I think," said Stamford, "things are going to happen."
What happened was a new sound from across the river—the pound of a running herd. Silence fell suddenly over the tragedy on the ledge; every eye was turned to the opposite cliffs.
Swiftly along the edge of the cliff galloped a bunch of steers, their tails held high. And driving them on was Professor Bulkeley, mounted on Gee-Gee, two huge dogs bounding before him.