In the ruined shack, half-way to our home, Kate was to have a candle, screened so that it could only be seen from our trail. As soon as we rose the edge of the bench, and a mile before we would reach the shack, I seen the candle and knew that she was safe. We passed my fence, we crossed the half-mile creek, we gathered speed along the open pasture, and then Kate's yell went through me like a knife. The robbers must have had a man on night herd, and found her by that light!
Dale's hand grabbed my rein, and with a growl he halted our whole outfit. "Steady," says he, "you fool!" Then in a whisper, as his men came crowding in: "Dismount! Ransome, hold horses! Sam, take three men afoot round the rear of that cabin. I take the rest to close in the front. Siwash, and Nitchie Scott, find enemy's horses and drift them away out of reach. No man to whisper, no man to make a sound, until I lift my hand at that cabin window. After that, kill any man who tries to escape. Get a move on!"
So, with me at his tail, he crept along from cover to cover, waving hand signals to throw his squad into place. The enemy's five horses at the door were led off by Billy's Siwash arriero, and Nitchie Scott, so gently that the robbers thought they were grazing. By that time Dale and me was at the window gap on the north side of the shack, but the candle was in our way, we couldn't see through its glow, and it wasn't till we got round to the door hole that we'd a view of what was going on inside.
My wife stood in the nor'west, right, far corner. A man with a gray chin whisker and a mournful smile, with his gun muzzle in her right ear, was shoving her head against the wall. Bull was talking as usual, explaining how his tact was better'n Whiskers' gun at persuading females. Ginger was trying to assuage Bull. The greaser was keeping a kind of lookout, although he couldn't see from the lighted room into the dark where we was. Ginger clapped his paws over Bull's mouth before the proceedings went on.
"Now," says Whiskers sadly, "are you goin' to scream any more?"
Kate's face was dead white with rage. "You cur," said she, "I screamed because my—you're hurting me, you brute! Leave off if you want to hear one word from me. Leave off! That's better. No, I won't scream again."
The gun sight was tearing her ear as she screwed her head around, looking him full in the eyes. "If you do me any harm," she said, "my husband's friends won't let you off with death. They'll burn you. Stand back, you coward!"
He flinched back just a little, and I saw his hand drawing slowly clear of her head.
"Get your horses," she cried out sharp, "you've barely time to escape!"
Then I fired, the bullet throwing that hand back, so that it contracted on the gun. His revolver shot went through the rear wall. The hand was spoiled.