Siwash Charley turned in his saddle and shook his fist defiantly.
"He's going to fight," said Cameron. "Look out for a shot when we come close. But don't fire yet, McGlory."
"What's the use of waiting?" demurred the cowboy. "It's a wonder Siwash hasn't opened up on us before now."
"We'll run him down in a minute. His horse—— Ah, ha! See that."
Siwash had been giving rather too much attention to the pursuing car and too little to his horse. The animal dropped a foot in a gopher hole and turned a somersault on the dried grass. Siwash shot out of the saddle as though he had been fired from a cannon, caromed across the prairie, and then lay still.
Cameron nearly ran over the scoundrel before he could shut off and clamp on the brakes. The horse, escaping a broken leg by almost a miracle, scrambled to its feet, gave a frightened snort, and dashed on at full speed, stirrups flying.
"Never mind the horse," said Cameron. "Let Jessup have the brute. Siwash is the one we're after."
"He's coming easy," returned McGlory, dropping the revolver on the seat and following the lieutenant out of the car.
Siwash was lying silent and motionless on the ground. Cameron knelt beside him and laid a hand on his breast.
"Is he done for?" asked McGlory.