tened with a nasty splintering of rock against the cliff back of Kinney and Moran.
One horse, unmanageable from fright, stampeded with his rider into the firelit opening, Seely shooting as he came. Kinney was cramming fresh shells into the Colt. Moran steadily fired his last cartridge and the horse swerved. Seely sagged limply in the saddle and slipped to the ground as the horse plunged back among the trees.
Every man thought the marshal’s posse was upon them. As each one succeeded in mounting he crashed away through the brush.
There was a sudden sound of drumming hoofs which increased to a clattering roar as a dozen hard running horses struck the rock bar coming in. With exulting yells the Bar T men flung from their saddles and blocked the mouth of the gorge.
Some few of the outlaws whirled their horses and headed up the canyon, only to turn back again as the marshal’s posse opened on them with a deadly hail of rifle fire. Every sound of their progress drew an answer from some fast shooting Winchester. The fight shifted from a general engagement to scattered individual duels and the gun flashes cut vivid crimson streaks through the night.
