Johnny had a late breakfast, according to George. "You look like you made a night of it," said the cook.

"I reckon I did," replied Johnny, yawning; "I didn\'t get much sleep."

"Did Wolf make any remarks about shootin\'?"

"When?"

"Last night."

"Didn\'t you see him start for home?"

"Thought mebby he come back to play."

"He didn\'t come back to play," replied Johnny. "I\'m goin\' for a ride an\' see if I can wake up," he said, and he did.

As he loped along the Juniper trail he made a confidante of Pepper.

"Dearly Beloved," he muttered, "we are goin\' to be th\' center of a whole lot of eyes before long. People will pay attention when they sees us. We are going to be right popular—an\' unpopular. If you knowed all th\' trouble I\'m brewin\' for us, you\'d reckon I wasn\'t no friend at all. But I know yo\'re with me to a finish, an\' not worryin\' about whose finish it\'s goin\' to be. I\'ve got to do some thinkin\'. You listen.

"Wolf was sent up to find out who\'s been ticklin\' th\' Bar H with a prong, an\' he didn\'t have no luck.[131] Knowin\' he was losin\' patience, I knowed what a man like him would do when he came to th\' end of it. He\'d pick a fight an\' start shootin\'. Now you know I ain\'t scared of Wolf, but you don\'t know that I wasn\'t ready to start no open war just yet. I\'ll admit I hope I don\'t have to start none, but I wouldn\'t bet two bits on that. So what did I do? I sent him away, Pepper, but he\'ll come back. Uh-huh, he\'ll come back if he\'s got th\' nerve—an\' it\'ll take some. An\' if he does you an\' me\'ll have to step around right lively. If he figgers right he\'ll come back a-shootin\', for he\'ll be all riled up. I couldn\'t have him trailin\' me wherever I went, could I? Th\' man wasn\'t reasonable—he didn\'t allow I had any rights.

"Now, then: Wolf won\'t be back before tomorrow mornin\'. I\'m bettin\' he won\'t be able to sit a saddle before mornin\', an\' that brings him here tomorrow afternoon. Th\' Bar H won\'t hunt for him, thanks to what you helped me do last night. If they find his cayuse without his saddle they\'ll think he come down an\' got a fresh hoss. An\' all we want is to see that little Peggy girl, an\' go over to th\' Double X. Then we\'ll turn th\' Bar H upside down, an\' let Wolf square up for his buggy ride if he wants. An\' I\'ll give odds that he\'ll want to."

When he reached the rendezvous he was early and he grinned as he realized his unusual impatience. "Pepper, things are shore happenin\' to me. I\'m what you might call sober-drunk. Just settin\' here quiet, lookin\' at that little valley is plumb thrillin\', little hoss—an\' would you cock an eye at that gent down there![132] An\' cussed if there ain\'t a cow in them sands! I reckon, mebby, it\'s goin\' to be real thrillin\' before long."

He jammed his sombrero tight on his head and waited, tense and eager for the overt act he felt sure would come, and send him down the hill like the swoop of a hawk.

Down in the valley Lang looked searchingly around and then, tying his rope to the remaining strand of wire, urged his horse ahead. He was standing up in the stirrups, his weight on one leg, leaning to one side to keep the rope from pressing against his other leg, his back to the hill, and he did not see the black thunderbolt dropping down the green slope; and so intent was he upon the work in hand that his ears did not give him warning of the charging enemy in time to attempt deliberate and well-sighted long-range rifle shooting. The wire had been torn loose from the first post and was straining at the staples in the next one before he had any intimation of the swiftly approaching danger. Surprised and galvanized into action by the sound of rolling hoofs pounding over a stretch of bare, hard ground, he turned in his saddle, flung a glance at the racing thoroughbred and jerked his rifle from its sheath. His horse, feeling the rope rub against one of its hind legs, kicked viciously and pranced. Twisting from one side to the other, rifle at his shoulder, Lang found himself in too awkward a position for well-aimed shooting against the racing enemy, who lay along the back of his horse and presented a discouragingly small target. Sliding the rifle back into the sheath, Lang worked desperately at the rope, trying to free it from the sad[133]dle. Cursing his clumsy fingers, he suddenly realized the trouble. "D—n my soul, if somebody ain\'t knotted it! Oh, th\' cussed fool!"

Giving up the attempt, he reached again for the rifle, swiftly changed his mind and pulled angrily on the reins to back his horse so he could get the other end of the rope and free it from the wire. "Staked out like a calf!" he gritted. Hauling in the rope, he at last grabbed the knot, and swore again. It had pulled so tight that precious seconds were wasted before he could free it, and his temper was not sweetened any by the two bullets which Johnny, firing at long range, sent on a gamble. They missed him by feet, but had their effect. Dropping the freed wire, he spurred around to face the swiftly nearing danger and jerked out his Colt, firing hastily. Johnny now was standing up in his stirrups to offset the bouncing of the horse and his shots were coming nearer all the time. Lang swerved his horse suddenly and fired again, but the animal was prancing. Johnny\'s reply struck the horse and the pain-racked animal, leaping convulsively, bolted for the gap between the posts, straight for the quicksands. Lang, frantic at this new danger, fought the animal with one hand, trying desperately to turn it, and used the gun with his other hand, doing neither well. Johnny, drawing his second Colt, replied to Lang\'s last shot and the Triangle puncher, dropping his weapon, sagged forward in the saddle and fell sideways into a grassy hollow, where he sprawled grotesquely as his horse, freed of his weight, leaped forward at greater speed and dashed out onto the treacherous sands, stopping[134] only when it became mired beyond the possibility of further progress. It floundered and strained with frantic energy until exhaustion made it pause, and then stood trembling, doomed by the inexorable sands which slowly crept up its quivering legs and caused its eyes to become wide with terror.

Johnny flashed past the prostrate puncher and then suddenly became aware of his danger. Pepper, holding her speed, kept straight on for the sandy trap. Johnny tried to swing her and she responded, but not enough in the restricted space and when he had pulled her back on her haunches she had crossed the quicksands\' edge and slid, wallowing and struggling, to a stop far from safety. Her instinct warned her of her peril and she struggled frantically to retrace her steps, but succeeded only in turning part way and had to give up the fight momentarily, with her side to the firm ground she had just quitted. Panting and shaking with terror, she looked around appealingly at her rider, who shook his head.

"No use, Pepper Girl," he said. "You\'ll only get in deeper. Rest yourself an\' wait—I\'m th\' only one who can help you now—an\' I never thought I\'d do a thing like that to you; an\' I ain\'t goin\' to do it till I has to. Good little cayuse—th\' best I ever laid eyes on, an\' I\'ve seen th\' best there was. We\'ve had our last ride together, little hoss, an\' mebby we\'ll go down together, too. Easy, girl; easy," he coaxed, and not wholly in vain. "You just rest an\' mebby we\'ll make another try after I see what there is to be seen. We got th\' coyote that caused it, anyhow!"

[135]

His words were contradicted almost as soon as spoken, for a derisive voice from the grassy hollow rang out in exultant laughter. Johnny, fearing a shot, although the fear was from instinct rather than from reason, fired instantly at the sound, and then lowered the gun. Lang was unarmed and could not get to his Colt without exposing himself.

"He won\'t get it while I\'m alive," muttered Johnny, reloading his other gun.

"Shoot!" exulted Lang; "but you better save th\' last for yoreself. That\'s right, shoot!" he jeered, as Johnny, stung by the words, wasted another cartridge. "Yo\'re comin\' as close as anybody could," he continued. "You can shoot like th\' hammers of h—l, an\' that makes it all th\' funnier. Shoot again!" he invited, holding up his hat. A hole appeared in it, to his surprise, but he jeered again instantly. "Fine! That\'s shootin\'. Shoot again!"

Johnny stroked Pepper\'s neck and then leaned over and looked down. "Not so deep," he muttered.

"Shore; look it over," shouted Lang. "That\'s what I\'m aimin\' to do. I\'m aimin\' to look it over, right to th\' finish. I\'ve allus wondered how a man would act in them sands, an\' I\'m goin\' to find out now. Mebby if yo\'re polite I\'ll put you out of yore misery when yore chin gets wet. Then I\'ll ride over to th\' Bar H an\' tell \'em who kidnapped th\' Doc, an\' did for Squint. I\'ve seen shows, but this here is goin\' to be th\' best of th\' lot."

Johnny\'s eyes glinted and he fired twice in succession—then a third shot after an interval, endeavoring[136] to force Lang to keep his head down while his other hand worked swiftly under his slicker roll. Emptying one gun, he slipped it back into its holster and used the other, still struggling with the slicker. At the last shot in the second weapon he worked Wolf\'s gun loose and slipped it into the holster on the far side from Lang. Standing up in his stirrups he gave vent to a burst of profanity and hurled his Colts, one after the other, at the hidden observer.

Lang looked up in time to see the first gun bounce from the ground and then the second fell close to it. He laughed nastily and ducked down again as Johnny drew the heavy Sharps from its sheath and sent an ounce of lead smashing into the sand and pebbles close to his head. Another, another, and another struck the top of the ridge, the last striking a rock and screaming high into the air. Then Johnny gripped the heavy weapon at its muzzle with both hands, stood up in his stirrups, whirled it around his head and sent it through the air towards the hidden man. It struck loose sand and slid ten feet in a little cloud of dust. The Triangle puncher looked out again, chuckled, and slowly emerged from his place of refuge.

"I calls that kind," he laughed. "There wasn\'t no use of lettin\' good weapons like them be lost. I can use \'em all—an\' just for that I\'m goin\' to end yore misery like I said I might. First," he said, going over to the nearest Colt and picking it up, "I\'m goin\' to load this gun an\' do somethin\' for my hoss an\' that cow." He walked unsteadily toward the edge of the sands, pulling half a dozen cartridges from his belt as he[137] advanced. Reaching the danger zone, he tried each step before putting his weight into it and slowly advanced to the last tuft of grass, where he stood, swaying slightly as it moved gently under his weight. The sand at its outer edges moved a little and changed color as the water flooded and receded in it. "Reckon this is th\' jumpin\' off place," he said. "You\'d be plumb tickled if I fell in, wouldn\'t you?" he jeered. "Well, I ain\'t aimin\' to. I\'m figgerin\' on loadin\' this gun—this way: Number One," he said, sliding a cartridge into the cylinder, "is for my hoss; Number Two is for th\' cow; Number Three is for a hole through yore hat; this one is for yore hoss when only its head is out, or as soon as you jump off. I\'m givin\' you that chance to help it—an\' to save my valuable time; these two are for yore head when yore chin gets under. One\'ll be enough, but two will be dead shore—I might miss th\' first to hear you cuss."

Lang raised the Colt and put his horse out of its misery; then he did the same for the cow. "That\'s what I call fair shootin\'," he said. "Of course, you might \'a\' done it faster—but I\'m in no hurry. Now, this next shot has got to be dead shore if I put it high enough in yore hat to miss yore head—an\' I ain\'t aimin\' to hit that yet. So if I takes plenty of time, don\'t you get jumpy."

He raised the gun above his head to increase the torment and there was a flash and roar at Johnny\'s hip. The Triangle puncher\'s hand opened and the gun dropped behind him as a look of great surprise flashed to his face, and remained there. Twisting sideways,[138] he fell face down, sprawled full length upon the greedy sands.

"There, d—n you!" gritted Johnny. "Th\' show\'s over, for you!" He brought the gun back on its mark, but did not release the hammer again. There was no doubt, this time, about Lang. He let the hammer down on an empty chamber and slid the weapon back in his holster.

Reassuring Pepper, he glanced down and saw that her legs were being pulled to the sides, which sprawled them out. "Slow," he said, and looked again to make sure. "Mighty slow. This stuff is different in places—but d—d sure," he added bitterly. "You take it easy, Pepper Girl. I won\'t let it last much longer—\'though it\'s goin\' to take a lot of nerve. Good little hoss—good little Pepper Girl."

He now knew there was no hope of riding out. He knew quicksands—he had seen them on other ranges, but never such a one as this, for the others had been small—the size of this bed was far beyond his experience. He studied it and watched the tremors running through it—the sand seemed to be moving and new surfaces to be forming. Wet spots appeared, became............