Falkner, panting, eyes burning with the lust of battle, pulled up beside Rowan.
“Whad you get in my way for?” he cried excitedly. “We got to make a clean sweep now. Got to do it to save ourselves.”
“No. You can’t get the others without getting me first.” McCoy’s voice rang sharp and dominant.
“But, man, don’t you see we’ve got to destroy the evidence against us? Leggo my arm.”
Rowan’s fingers had fastened upon the wrist of the other like steel clamps. His steady eyes were deadly in their intentness.
“You’ve got to kill me before you kill them. Understand?”
Yerby had reached the wagon. He spoke up at once: “Mac is right. We’ve done too much killing already. Good Lord, how did it start?”
Falkner opened his lips to speak, then closed them again. He looked at McCoy and waited savagely for the accusation. But none came. Rowan said nothing.
“First I knew Tait was in the wagon door with his gun and we were all shooting. But someone fired first and brought him out from the wagon. It came from the right. Who was it, Mac?” demanded Rogers.
Cole and Silcott joined them. They had been examining the fallen men.