“What are you doin’ here?” he almost shouted.
Sam Blair jerked up, still holding the lantern, but flung it aside as he drew his gun. The lantern had barely smashed to the ground when the two men began shooting.
Sleepy felt the first bullet as it passed his head, and fired twice in rapid succession. Blair fired again, but the streak of flame from his gun was pointing upward and the bullet went streaking toward the North Star, while Blair stumbled and went down in a heap.
It was all over in five seconds. The kitchen door crashed open and the three cowpunchers, headed by Big Medicine, came running out. Sleepy was going toward Blair, covering him with his gun, when Big Medicine joined him.
“What happened?” he panted. “What was the matter?”
“Watch that jigger,” said Sleepy hoarsely. “I think he’s got Hashknife.”
Sleepy fell on his knees beside Hashknife, while the others scratched matches. Big Medicine came from Blair.
“Take him into the house,” he ordered. “This other feller ain’t goin’ to get away, until he’s carried away.”
They carried Hashknife into the house and placed him on the floor, while Big Medicine made a swift examination.
“He got hit, that’s all,” declared Big Medicine, pointing to an egglike swelling on Hashknife’s head between his eye and ear. “He’ll be all right in a few minutes, I think.”