In an instant he was in his saddle. He swung far to one side and caught her in his arms. Vaguely he heard the yell of excitement from the outlaws. All he was vividly conscious of was the white horror of her face. She fought like a wildcat. She did not cry out. She struck him full in the face with the strength of a man, almost. He prisoned her with a stronger grip, and in so doing nearly toppled from the saddle, for his horse reared up, snorting.
A gun cracked twice and two bullets hummed close to his head. From the corner of his eye he was aware of Silent and Rhinehart flinging themselves upon Lee Haines, who struggled furiously to fire again. He drove his spurs deep and the cattle pony started a bucking course for the shanty.
"Dan!" he muttered at her ear.
The yells of the men drowned his voice. She managed to jerk her right arm free and struck him in the face. He shook her furiously.
"For Whistling Dan!" he said more loudly. "He's dying!"
She went rigid in his arms.
"Don't speak!" he panted. "Don't let them know!"
The outlaws were running after them, laughing and waving their hats.
"Dan!"
"Faint, you fool!"