A third shot and the man stumbled among the rocks and disappeared.

There was no movement toward retreat on the part of the mounted men, and Philip listened as he slipped in fresh cartridges.

His horse was panting; he could hear the excited and joyous tumult of his own heart-but above it all he heard the steady beat, beat, beat of those approaching hoofs! Billinger would be there soon--in time to use his carbine at a deadly rate, while he got into closer quarters with his revolver.

God bless Billinger--and his broken leg! He was filled with the craze of fight now and it found vent in a yell of defiance as he spurred on toward the outlaws.

They were not going to run.