well. He fired once futilely with his Winchester, and heard the ricocheting bullet scream harmlessly in the brilliant afternoon. Frantically he waved his men over toward the far end of the ledge, but by the time they got there the two had advanced to the stone shelf above.
The gang leader wiped his face and cursed. They would have to go up that hill after them; there was no other way. Wade Jeffers, a kid about Dunc Lester's age, yelled, “You got 'em spotted, Ike?”
“They're makin' for the top. Take four men around to the other side and see they don't come down on top of you.” Then he thought of something and jogged over to his men. “Wait a minute. We'll split the gang into three parts, cover the hill on three sides. There are only two of them, so they won't be able to cover three points at once.”
Jeffers frowned. “We're goin' up that hill after them?”
“How else would you get them down?”
The boy regarded the hill seriously and it was clear that he didn't like the idea. “It'll be dangerous. We'll be lookin' right into the barrels of their guns.”
Ike Brunner's voice was icy. “When you joined this bunch,” he said, “I never told you it was goin' to be easy. The two men on that hill have got to be killed or we're done for. Now,” and he fixed his gaze on Wade Jeffers alone, “if any man has any objections to the way I run this gang, I guess he'd better speak up.”
Jeffers swallowed hard. “I didn't mean that, Ike.”
“It's lucky you didn't. Now take four men and get on the other side of the hill. I'll send more when Gabe gets here.”
The small rebellion was completely crushed. The men shuffled uneasily; if they had to choose between the hill and Ike's fury, they'd take the hill. When Jeffers turned to carry out his leader's orders, Ike said, “Three fast rifle shots will be the signal to start climbing, and we're
They understood.
After Wade Jeffers had taken his men to the far side, Ike mounted his spotted pony and rode back about a hundred yards until he could scan the rocky slope from top to bottom. There was not much timber here, except for small stands of scrubby pine and blackjack near the base. The marshal and Dunc Lester were not to be seen, and Ike guessed that they had already reached the top. Well, he thought with grim satisfaction, that's as far as they'll ever get.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw that Gabe Tanis was leading the other half of the gang over the eastern crest and was headed toward the valley. Ike nudged the paint and rode around to the south, then to the north, leisurely searching out the best and most protected routes to the top. Well out of carbine range, he knew that he was in no danger.
At last he selected what he judged to be the three best routes and settled down to wait for Gabe's party to cross the valley. A kind of icy calm had settled within him as he calculated what it would cost to scale that hill. Three men, maybe. Four, if this happened to be their unlucky day. There was one thing that Ike had learned—a man had to pay for what he got in this world.
Now he heard the pound of hoofs behind him, and reined the paint around to face Gabe Tanis and the rest of the gang.
“We heard shootin',” Gabe said, wiping his sweaty face. Ike grinned. “You'll hear more. Dunc and the marshal pulled out of the cabin and made it up there.” He pointed to the hill.
Gabe's eyebrows lifted, then he spat a stream of tobacco juice with the wind. “It'll be nearly hell,” he said soberly, “goin' up after them.”
Ike laughed abruptly. “You're not goin' yellow, are you, Gabe? Fifteen against two; what kind of odds do you want?”
Gabe regarded the hill for one long moment, then shrugged. “All right, Ike. Whatever you say.”
Chapter Fourteen
The first bullet from the hilltop smashed abruptly at Ike Brunner's feet, showering powdered sandstone in his face. Quickly he clawed his way up to a stone overhang and lay panting. Gabe Tanis scrambled up and dropped beside him.
“I told you it wasn't goin' to be easy.”
“Shut up!” Ike snarled. He had split the party into three groups, and two thirds of the gang was out of sight on the far sides of the slope. Ike moved to the end of the overhang, lifted his Winchester, and fired three quick shots toward the jagged ridge. Maybe it won't be easy, he thought, but they'll do as I say. They know I'll kill the man who tries to back down!
There were three more men near the base of the hill, and the carbine barked twice as they started up. Ike listened to the sporadic firing on the other side and smiled. Lester and the marshal were going to have trouble splitting themselves three ways for defense. Over to the right he heard a sudden burst of fire.
“They must have spotted Jeffers' bunch,” Ike said. “Follow me!”
They fought for footing, clawed their way past a thicket of blackjack, and now the carbine and revolver fire shifted away from Jeffers and turned on Ike and his group. A lead slug screamed and spat into the thicket and started a small landslide as the five men huddled behind a massive boulder.
Ike laughed and lay on his Winchester. Suddenly there was another outburst of firing on their left. “What did I tell you?” Ike yelled at Gabe Tanis. “They'll go crazy tryin' to be everywhere at once!”
Ike crouched behind the boulder, then darted into the open, clawing at roots and loose rocks, pulling himself upward. The others came behind him, all making for the second big shelf, about forty yards away.
But something went wrong with Ike's plan. A steady, withering barrage of carbine fire caught the group in the open, midway between the boulder and the shelf of sandstone. Buckshot from Dunc Lester's shotgun tore into blackjack trunks, ripped off branches, and scattered rocks. A slug tugged at Ike Brunner's sleeve and went screaming toward the valley. Someone cried out, but Ike did not look back until he reached the protection of the
