As they waited, the roof tree of the corral fell in, sending a shower of sparks high into the air.
And, while the lurid flare lighted the surrounding country, of a sudden, a white spectre dashed out onto the plains.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE RUNNING NIGHT FIGHT.
An instant, the ranchmen and cowboys stood, too dumbfounded to move.
Then the shriek of a mocking jeer galvanized them into action.
Bang! Bang! Bang! went their guns, the deeper explosions of the rifles and the staccato barks of the six shooters sounding above the roar of the flames.
But, as though shielded by a magic armour, the spectre raced on, unscathed by the rain of bullets.
“To the corral!”
“They’re after the cattle!”