In another moment the rockbound chasm echoed with the steady roar of the three revolvers.

In front of the flaming end of his own gun Philip saw the outlaw on the right pitch forward in his saddle and fall to the ground.

He sent his last shot at the man on the left and drew his second gun.

Before he could fire again his mare gave a tremendous lunge forward and stumbled upon her knees, and with a gasp of horror Philip felt the saddle-girth slip as he swung to free himself.
In the few terrible seconds that followed Philip was conscious of two things--that death was very near, and that Billinger was a moment too late.

Less than ten paces away the outlaw was deliberately taking aim at him, while his own pistol arm was pinned under the weight of his body.
For a breath he ceased to struggle, looking up in frozen calmness at the man whose finger was already crooked to fire.
When a shot suddenly rang out, it passed through him in a lightning flash that it was the shot intended for him.