“Listen!” Nelson threw up his hand.
From far up the road they could hear the rattle of rifle shots.
“My ⸺!” exclaimed Reber. “The boys of the Two Bar X are tryin’ to stop ’em! Come on!”
Some one lashed Buck Priest’s horse across the rump with a rope, and the animal almost unseated the suffering old man. He gritted his teeth and rode along with them. The men were riding with rifles in their hands now.
About three hundred yards short of the Two Bar X, the road topped an elevation around the point of a hill and, as they swung around this point, Park Reber, riding at the head of his men, drew rein.
The whole front end of the ranchhouse was enveloped in flames, and beyond the burning house the hills were full of cattle. They saw a man running away from the corrals. He mounted a horse and headed for the cattle.
A rifle bullet struck the ground in front of Reber’s horse and buzzed angrily away. The riders separated like a covey of quail. Another bullet thudded against a horse, and its rider flung himself free as the horse reared up and fell backward.
Cowboys were dismounting as swiftly as possible, letting their horses go; then they ran ahead, taking advantage of every bit of cover. Rifles began to crack as the Reber men searched the corrals and sheds with bullets.
Mounted men began riding from behind the stable, heading toward the cattle.
“Get yore horses!” yelled Reber. “They’re headin’ for the pass.”