He let drive with both his guns, but I shot first, and only just in time. One bullet grazed my ear, the other killed a horse; but my shot had done its work and spoiled his aim. His eyes rolled up white, his face went dead, he sat there a corpse in the saddle for maybe a minute, until I yelled, and the horse shied, and the body lurched forward, crashing to the ground, splashing a cloud of dust which was red with the sunset.
CHAPTER XXI
A FLYING HOSPITAL
Captain McCalmont, away north on the trail, pulled up at a bend of the hill.
"Doc," he called out to the man with the led horse astern, "jest you hitch that sorrel of mine to the tail of this rig. That's right, my son; now find out if Buck stays at the skyline or goes buttin' straight back to the ranche."
"All right, Cap."
When he was gone, Curly rucked up the canvas ground-sheet, climbed out of bed, and nestled against her father's side on the seat.
"Havin' a bad time?" he asked, as he drove on.
"Sure."