time, Longarm rode a good long distance, almost two miles, perhaps a little further. He wanted to be much closer to Ashtonâs headquarters, but yet he didnât want to come directly even with it. He pulled his horse up and looked up the hill. This would be harder going. It was steeper and much more rocky. He wouldnât be able to use his horse to help him at all. He would have to climb the whole way in his high-heeled boots while carrying his rifle and the two bundles of dynamite. In the end, he put his saddlebags over his shoulder, took his rifle in his left hand, and started up the hill. He had taken time to reload his carbine, though he doubted that he would have a chance to use it.
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It was hard going, and this part of the mountains was higher than the others had been. Now, he had to help himself along with his free hand, with the saddlebags flopping over his shoulder, trying to keep from banging his carbine against the rocks. It took him about fifteen minutes to reach the top, but when he did, he could see that he had picked a good spot. Very clear in the near foreground were the outbuildings. Two of them were long, low structures that he was willing to bet were bunkhouses. That was what he wanted to stir up. The other good thing was that there were plenty of rock heaps on the ranch side of the mountain.
Longarm knew he would have to work quick because it would be easy to spot him as he worked around the rocks. He left his rifle on the off side and took the two bundles of dynamite, one containing six sticks and the one containing eight, and slipped over the crest of the little mountain. He worked his way about a third of the way down until he found some big boulders with some rocks the size of barrels. They looked to be just what he had in mind.
Now, he was going to do it a little more dangerously. He crimped the blasting cap into the end of the dynamite. This one had a six-foot cord. It would take three minutes for the fuse to burn. He put it in place, lit the fuse, and then hurried south along the mountain face, searching for a home for the eight-stick bundle. He didnât have to go but about a hundred yards. He found a small crevice in between a half-dozen rocks, and shoved the bundle in there. He crimped the blasting cap in place, and then lit the fuse. He turned and hurried as fast as he could to get to the crest. In a second, the bundle with six sticks was going to blast.
He had just made it over and onto the other side when there came a tremendous boom and roar. Longarm watched as a huge cloud of smoke and dust and dirt and rocks erupted from the other side of the mountain. When he was certain they were not going to rain down on him, he peeked over the edge. When he looked, he could see that some of the rocks were falling close enough to the outbuildings to draw the notice of the occupants. He saw one or two figures come to the door and look out. As quickly as he could he raced down to where he had left his rifle.
Just as he reached it, the second bundle went off, this blast sounding even louder than the other. As far away as he was, at least a hundred and fifty yards, he could still feel the thrust of the blast and the concussion as the air was blown apart. Now, as he looked down, he could see rocks hitting the buildings, including the two long, low structures he had taken to be bunkhouses. Half-a-dozen men had come out and looked up to see what had happened. These were men who had been asleep, who had not turned out for his first little attempt to get their attention. But they had come out now and were standing in the yard of the bunkhouse, staring up at the smoke and dust that were still rising.
They were too far away to make for anything but a lucky shot. But they were close together and there was a number of them. He levered a cartridge into the chamber and fired as quickly as he could, firing once, twice, three times. He fired six times until the hammer clicked on empty. He saw four men
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It was hard going, and this part of the mountains was higher than the others had been. Now, he had to help himself along with his free hand, with the saddlebags flopping over his shoulder, trying to keep from banging his carbine against the rocks. It took him about fifteen minutes to reach the top, but when he did, he could see that he had picked a good spot. Very clear in the near foreground were the outbuildings. Two of them were long, low structures that he was willing to bet were bunkhouses. That was what he wanted to stir up. The other good thing was that there were plenty of rock heaps on the ranch side of the mountain.
Longarm knew he would have to work quick because it would be easy to spot him as he worked around the rocks. He left his rifle on the off side and took the two bundles of dynamite, one containing six sticks and the one containing eight, and slipped over the crest of the little mountain. He worked his way about a third of the way down until he found some big boulders with some rocks the size of barrels. They looked to be just what he had in mind.
Now, he was going to do it a little more dangerously. He crimped the blasting cap into the end of the dynamite. This one had a six-foot cord. It would take three minutes for the fuse to burn. He put it in place, lit the fuse, and then hurried south along the mountain face, searching for a home for the eight-stick bundle. He didnât have to go but about a hundred yards. He found a small crevice in between a half-dozen rocks, and shoved the bundle in there. He crimped the blasting cap in place, and then lit the fuse. He turned and hurried as fast as he could to get to the crest. In a second, the bundle with six sticks was going to blast.
He had just made it over and onto the other side when there came a tremendous boom and roar. Longarm watched as a huge cloud of smoke and dust and dirt and rocks erupted from the other side of the mountain. When he was certain they were not going to rain down on him, he peeked over the edge. When he looked, he could see that some of the rocks were falling close enough to the outbuildings to draw the notice of the occupants. He saw one or two figures come to the door and look out. As quickly as he could he raced down to where he had left his rifle.
Just as he reached it, the second bundle went off, this blast sounding even louder than the other. As far away as he was, at least a hundred and fifty yards, he could still feel the thrust of the blast and the concussion as the air was blown apart. Now, as he looked down, he could see rocks hitting the buildings, including the two long, low structures he had taken to be bunkhouses. Half-a-dozen men had come out and looked up to see what had happened. These were men who had been asleep, who had not turned out for his first little attempt to get their attention. But they had come out now and were standing in the yard of the bunkhouse, staring up at the smoke and dust that were still rising.
They were too far away to make for anything but a lucky shot. But they were close together and there was a number of them. He levered a cartridge into the chamber and fired as quickly as he could, firing once, twice, three times. He fired six times until the hammer clicked on empty. He saw four men
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