Adventure, December 3, 1920 — page 56: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

46 might set it off any second. Even as he was thinking of the certain result if this should happen a fresh volley sent the lead plunking into the soft clay behind him. ete, 43.4 oee| LANG fired three shots toward the a rocks at the left side, reloaded his gun and peered cautiously through a crevice. He was careful not to empty his gun entirely or the men—counting his shots and thus being aware that he was reloading—might rush him and catch him at a fatal disadvantage. The firingSlackened a bit as if the attackers realized the futility of it and were conferring. Lang crept back to where the dynamite lay in a sack against the rock wall. With his hands he began to scrape out a place in the clay. Another shower of bullets sent him scurrying back to the prot€ction in front. During a second lull he tried once more to dig a hole sufficiently deep to bury the dyna- mite, but again he was driven to the security of the rock and gravel barrier by a volley of bullets. Suddenly the shooting was hushed and in the stillness Lang heard sounds from the direction of the river. These increased in distinctness until he made out the hurrying, thudding echoes of hoofbeats. There were several horses in the approaching party, and Lang surmised it was the sheriff’s posse. The horses now were pounding up the draw, and the Lang heard Bransom’s voice raised in a warning shout— “Careful Frued—keep back there!” Lang caught sight of a horse through the screen of trees below. Instantly his gun blazed. A string of curses came to his ears and he laughed. Then the silence fell again like a pall’ He could hear the subdued murmur of voices from somewhere below. He slipped back and worked like mad, ex- cavating with his hands. He hurriedly put the sack of dynamite into the shallow hole and~ heaped dirt and stones upoh it. A _ bullet smashed against a rock close to his head— another and another. ' Lang leaped back to the boulders in front. Just as he did so he caught sight of a flash of drab color in the short open space between the trees which screened the cabin and the clump where his horse was hid. A man was jumping across the space. ° Lang’s gun spurted fire and the man stumbled forward upon his face and lay still. Silence followed this first visible tragedy of the fight in the draw. “Wish they’d all try that stunt, one at a time,’ said Lang to himself as he reloaded. But he hardly had given vent to this thought aloud when a gun cracked somewhere in front Adventure of him and a hot, burning sensation manifested itself on his left shoulder. He crouched low and put his hand within his shirt; it came away bloody. “Nicked!” he exclaimed. fellow shooting, from?” Another bullet tore through his hat and Lang scrambled to a huge protecting boulder at the left. As he did so there was another flash of drab color in the opening near the right wall; but before Lang could get his weapon into action in that direction a man had vaulted across the open space and gained the shelter of the little clump of trees where his horse was tethered. Lang now was compelled to lay flat to take advantage of the cover of the rocks to the right. He had not counted on one of his enemies reaching that clump of trees. The man there had an advantage almost equal to Lang’s. And Lang had made another disheartening discovery. The bullet which had creased him in the shoulder and the one which had hit his hat—much too close for anything approaching comfort—had come from near the top of a tall spruce that grew close to the wall of the draw near the rocks which concealed some of the at- tacking party below on the right. They were taking to the trees! From one of “Where is that these it might be possible to pot-shot him. His predicament now hadgecome one of the gravest danger. Lang did not wish to risk firing into the trees at his right because he might hit his horse. Lurking in his mind was the glimmer of a wild hope—the hope that something might develop in his favor to enablechim to make a dash for it. He was sorry he had not attempted to make the trail to the divide. He would have had a better chance in a running fight than trapped as he was, hemmed in by towering cliffs behind, confronted by enemies in front and with a cache of dynamite at his back. . Through a niche between the boulders he was able to get a glimpse of the tall spruce. Soon he saw a puff of smoke as the man concealed in the branches fired. Lang shot three times at the spot where the smoke had showed— once directly below it, and once to either side. His answer was another puff of smoke—and another. A bullet whizzed through the niche as he reloaded. The sniper was protected by the trunk of the tree, of course. Then from the trees where his horse was hidden came bullets which sang over his head. He groaned at the futility of his position. If he could only fight in the open! There was a rattle above him—a clatter and succession of dull, echoing reports—and then a stone plunked into the gravel beside him. With a sickening sinking of his heart he turned partly upon his back and peered up just in / cComiuicbook (E@)