But his wound had been sorer than
Norton's, his aim was less steady, and now as he gave back it was to
fall heavily and lie still.
It had lasted less than five minutes. "It's Jim Galloway's fight and
Galloway don't come!" some one had shouted. They broke again, gave
back and back . . . and then were running, every man of them scenting
defeat and much worse than defeat unless he came to a horse before
another five minutes. And after them, firing now as they ran, came
Brocky's cowboys and Norton's men.
"They've got all of their horses over there together," yelled Brocky
into Norton's ear. "The horses for those Ginneys who have been hiding
out in the mountains, too. That's why I cut in between them that way.
Now if we can only scatter their cayuses . . . why, Roddy, we'll have
every damned one of 'em afoot to be rounded up when we get ready!"
And Brocky, limping as he went, had raced along after the others.
But Norton did not follow. His eyes had gone to the horses which he
and the San Juan men had left beyond the little line of boulders. And,
travelling that way, he had seen a lone horseman far off to the south,
a horseman riding frantically, seeking to come to the lower slopes of
Mt. Temple.
CHAPTER XXVI
THE BELLS RING
"Galloway!"
It seemed almost as though some great voice had shouted it to him
through the din.
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