drifted down from beyond the rim of the gulley.
"They've found the empty wagon," the hunter said grimly. "Now if they'll just follow Markert's tracks, we're in the clear. But I've got a kind of all-gone feeling they're too smart to fall for it."
"Hurry it up," Dandy yelled impatiently. "Get it into the coffin but let it down easy. I don't want the bottom knocked out. Then you two step far back and don't look. I wouldn't sell my coffin secret for any money, and I'm sure as hell not going to give it away by letting you peek."
They hoisted the heavy chest up and were starting to ease it down into the coffin when Apachito and his men burst over the rim of the gully and came racing down the slope, yelling. A rifle banged and a slug richocheted off the lid of the chest, leaving a silvery trail.
Dandy dived for the ground, yelling, "Let it down! Let the chest down and slam the lid quick!"
They could hear the guttural voice of Apachito bawling, "The money chest! They're tryin' to hide it in the coffin!"
The hunter finished letting his end down and whirled, his gun in his hand. Shadrach had dropped to one knee and was steadying his custom-made killing machine across his left arm. With its enormously longer barrel, its range was far greater.
The gun blammed thunderously. Up the slope an outlaw threw up his hands and pitched sideways out of his saddle. He fell under the pounding hooves of the horses coming behind. When they had passed there was only an unmoving bundle of crimsoned rags on the ground.
"Our deal's off," the hunter said through his teeth. "I'm going to try to get Apachito first. With him dead, some of the others might get cold feet and pull out . It's our only chance of getting out of this alive."
Shadrach was frenziedly screwing the skeleton stock on to the butt of his pistol. He made no reply but his face mirrored the intensity of the inner struggle between avarice and survival.
The Man With No Name had dropped to one knee. He tried a long shot elevating his pistol for maximum range, but the distance was still too great. He saw a spurt of dust kicked up by his slug a few yards in front of the charging pack. He snapped out the cylinder and replaced the empty with a fresh shell from his belt.
Shadrach had the gunstock against his shoulder. He fired again and one of the running horses stumbled and went down, throwing the rider over its head, then rolling over him. There were howls of rage and scattered rifle shots that went wild. The hunter weighed his chances of reaching his shooting stand, some fifteen yards away, where his rifle and the half-dozen pistols lay, loaded and ready for his act.
Abruptly and unaccountably, the situation changed. The charging outlaws were almost to level flat at the base of the slope. One of the riders suddenly yelled wordlessly, pointing northward, up the ancient riverbed. Then the others were howling in panic, raising a great cloud of dust as they jerked their mounts around and went racing back up the slope.
The bounty hunter was on his feet, running to a spot where he could see past the stage and up the gully. A wall of water, ten or twelve feet high, stretching across the ancient riverbed from slope to slope, was racing toward them at express-train speed.
He bawled, " Flash flood! Run for your lives!"
No one stopped to argue. They were all too familiar with the devastation and death that could come roaring down from a cloudburst high in the mountains. Dandy caught Molly's hand and ran desperately toward the slope below their wagons. Hunk and Cora raced at their heels. Laura darted around to the side of the tent and pulled open the door of the lion's cage before running after the others.
Shadrach was running toward the opposite slope, shouting, "Come on, come on! This slope is closer."
The hunter swerved aside to jerk the picket pin out of the soft ground and free the white horse. The black horse, saddled and bridled, was hidden somewhere in the willow thickets that lined the
"They've found the empty wagon," the hunter said grimly. "Now if they'll just follow Markert's tracks, we're in the clear. But I've got a kind of all-gone feeling they're too smart to fall for it."
"Hurry it up," Dandy yelled impatiently. "Get it into the coffin but let it down easy. I don't want the bottom knocked out. Then you two step far back and don't look. I wouldn't sell my coffin secret for any money, and I'm sure as hell not going to give it away by letting you peek."
They hoisted the heavy chest up and were starting to ease it down into the coffin when Apachito and his men burst over the rim of the gully and came racing down the slope, yelling. A rifle banged and a slug richocheted off the lid of the chest, leaving a silvery trail.
Dandy dived for the ground, yelling, "Let it down! Let the chest down and slam the lid quick!"
They could hear the guttural voice of Apachito bawling, "The money chest! They're tryin' to hide it in the coffin!"
The hunter finished letting his end down and whirled, his gun in his hand. Shadrach had dropped to one knee and was steadying his custom-made killing machine across his left arm. With its enormously longer barrel, its range was far greater.
The gun blammed thunderously. Up the slope an outlaw threw up his hands and pitched sideways out of his saddle. He fell under the pounding hooves of the horses coming behind. When they had passed there was only an unmoving bundle of crimsoned rags on the ground.
"Our deal's off," the hunter said through his teeth. "I'm going to try to get Apachito first. With him dead, some of the others might get cold feet and pull out . It's our only chance of getting out of this alive."
Shadrach was frenziedly screwing the skeleton stock on to the butt of his pistol. He made no reply but his face mirrored the intensity of the inner struggle between avarice and survival.
The Man With No Name had dropped to one knee. He tried a long shot elevating his pistol for maximum range, but the distance was still too great. He saw a spurt of dust kicked up by his slug a few yards in front of the charging pack. He snapped out the cylinder and replaced the empty with a fresh shell from his belt.
Shadrach had the gunstock against his shoulder. He fired again and one of the running horses stumbled and went down, throwing the rider over its head, then rolling over him. There were howls of rage and scattered rifle shots that went wild. The hunter weighed his chances of reaching his shooting stand, some fifteen yards away, where his rifle and the half-dozen pistols lay, loaded and ready for his act.
Abruptly and unaccountably, the situation changed. The charging outlaws were almost to level flat at the base of the slope. One of the riders suddenly yelled wordlessly, pointing northward, up the ancient riverbed. Then the others were howling in panic, raising a great cloud of dust as they jerked their mounts around and went racing back up the slope.
The bounty hunter was on his feet, running to a spot where he could see past the stage and up the gully. A wall of water, ten or twelve feet high, stretching across the ancient riverbed from slope to slope, was racing toward them at express-train speed.
He bawled, " Flash flood! Run for your lives!"
No one stopped to argue. They were all too familiar with the devastation and death that could come roaring down from a cloudburst high in the mountains. Dandy caught Molly's hand and ran desperately toward the slope below their wagons. Hunk and Cora raced at their heels. Laura darted around to the side of the tent and pulled open the door of the lion's cage before running after the others.
Shadrach was running toward the opposite slope, shouting, "Come on, come on! This slope is closer."
The hunter swerved aside to jerk the picket pin out of the soft ground and free the white horse. The black horse, saddled and bridled, was hidden somewhere in the willow thickets that lined the
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