‘We split right here, men!’
Elbert heard certain names shouted—those who were to turn back, those to ride north. Then Bart’s face jerked around to him. ‘This way for us, Mister, we ride together.’
Their horses were at full run, along the river-bed, where the clear sand showed at the edge of the stream—shots still peppering after.
‘Your mare!’ Bart laughed. ‘Why, they’d have gotten all of us, if she hadn’t given warning! We’d have gone right into their gun-barrels under the bridge!’
‘She’s one more listening mare,’ Elbert called back.
XXII
FRAMED IN A DOBE GATEWAY
North, they were riding straight north, though the going for a way was a bit heavy through the sand and stones.
‘Not so fast quite!’ Bart warned. ‘The other three can’t keep up—’
Elbert was bending forward because the rurales were following, their shots still in the air. His heart was filled with elation that Mamie had given the warning, and that their course had turned north. He had forgotten the three of Bart’s men still riding with them. More shots from behind, a queer gulping cough from Bart.
‘Are you hurt?’ Elbert called.