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Somebody's shootin' up the ranch," he volunteered. "Wonder who it could be."

Suppose it is your friend and general?" asked the girl.

Billy made no reply. They reached the river and as Billy knew not where the fords

lay he plunged in at the point at which the water first barred their progress and

dragging the girl after him, plowed bull-like for the opposite shore. Where the

water was above his depth he swam while Barbara clung to his shoulders. Thus

they made the passage quickly and safely.

Billy stopped long enough to shake the water out of his carbine, which the girl

had carried across, and then forged ahead toward the ranchhouse from which the

sounds of battle came now in increased volume.

And at the ranchhouse "hell was popping." The moment Bridge realized that some

of the attackers had reached the veranda he called the surviving Mexican and the

Chinaman to follow him to the lower floor where they might stand a better chance

to repel this new attack. Mr. Harding he persuaded to remain upstairs.

Outside a dozen men were battering to force an entrance. Already one panel had

splintered, and as Bridge entered the room he could see the figures of the bandits

through the hole they had made. Raising his rifle he fired through the aperture.

There was a scream as one of the attackers dropped; but the others only

increased their efforts, their oaths, and their threats of vengeance.

The three defenders poured a few rounds through the sagging door, then Bridge

noted that the Chinaman ceased firing.

What's the matter?" he asked.

"Allee gonee," replied Sing, pointing to his ammunition belt.

At the same instant the Mexican threw down his carbine and rushed for a

window on the opposite side of the room. His ammunition was exhausted and

with it had departed his courage. Flight seemed the only course remaining.

Bridge made no effort to stop him. He would have been glad to fly, too; but he

could not leave Anthony Harding, and he was sure that the older man would

prove unequal to any sustained flight on foot.

"You better go, too, Sing," he said to the Chinaman, placing another bullet

through the door; "there's nothing more that you can do, and it may be that they

are all on this side now--I think they are. You fellows have fought splendidly.

Wish I could give you something more substantial than thanks; but that's all I

have now and shortly Pesita won't even leave me that much."

295

The Mucker