The sun was riding high noon when he was awakened by a hand upon his
arm. It was Raven.
"Hush!" he said. "Not a word. Mount and quick!"
Looking about Cameron observed that the pack horses were ready loaded
and Raven standing by his broncho ready to mount. Little Thunder was
nowhere to be seen.
"What's up?" said Cameron.
For answer Raven pointed up the long sloping trail down which they had
come. There three horsemen could be seen riding hard, but still distant
more than half a mile.
"Saw them three miles away, luckily enough," said Raven.
"Where's Little Thunder?" enquired Cameron.
"Oh, rounding up the bunch," answered Raven carelessly, waving his hand
toward the valley. "Those men are coming some," he added, swinging into
his saddle.
As he spoke a rifle shot shattered the stillness of the valley. The
first of the riders threw up his hands, clutched wildly at the vacant
air and pitched headlong out of the saddle. "Good God! What's that?"
gasped Cameron. The other two wheeled in their course. Before they could
turn a second shot rang out and another of the riders fell upon his
horse's neck, clung there for a moment, then gently slid to the ground.
The third, throwing himself over the side of his pony, rode back for
dear life.
A third and a fourth shot were heard, but the fleeing rider escaped
unhurt.
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