Lonesome Pete fired his six-shooter, and one of the masked men dropped his rifle and fell face-downward; before he could fire again, a piece of lead caught him in the shoulder and flung him down against the dashboard, dazed, helpless, and out of the fight.
Billings, plying his whip frantically, tried to drive the leaders over the man at their heads. The robber, although lifted from his feet with every jump of the frightened horses, managed to keep his hold.
One of the robbers rushed to the spot where De Bray was struggling with the leader of the gang, and fetched the Easterner a blow with the stock of his gun. De Bray pitched forward to the ground, and lay silent.
Lawless jumped to his feet. A bullet from Hotchkiss’ revolver whipped past his ear and struck the man at the horses’ heads. The man let go his hold with a wild yell, and the four-horse team would have sped onward but for Lawless.
The leader of the gang in no uncertain way demonstrated his prowess. A bullet from one of his weapons tore its way through Hotchkiss’ arm, and sent the miner reeling backward against the mountain-wagon.
The wagon was already leaping over the ground, and Hotchkiss slid from the revolving rear wheel and sprawled full length across the trail.
Quick as thought, Lawless made a flying jump for the driver’s seat, and, as luck would have it, gained a position at Billings’ side.
A blow from the butt of his revolver sent Billings down on the crouching form of Lonesome Pete, and Lawless caught the lines as they were flickering over the dashboard.
Throwing himself back on the bits with all his strength, the leader of the robbers brought the frantic horses to a halt.
The short, sharp battle was practically over. Numbers had won. De Bray was still lying unconscious on the ground; Hotchkiss was lifting himself on his uninjured arm, and staring at his revolver, which lay at a distance from him; Pete and Billings were huddled against the dashboard, and four masked men had their rifles leveled to prevent any further act of resistance.