They stopped an instant at the scene of the shooting, possibly to revive the man I had stunned and to learn from him what had happened.
They were too wise to mount their horses, knowing that, afoot, they could make better time over the rocky country than I could on horseback.

Steadily I heard them gaining, and soon made up my mind that if I was to evade them at all I must abandon my horse.
Jumping off, I gave him a smart slap with the butt of my revolver which sent him down the valley.

I turned and began to scramble up the mountainside.
I had climbed hardly forty feet when I heard them pass, following the sound of my horse's feet.

I dodged behind a tree as they went by, and when I heard them firing farther down the trail I worked my way up the mountainside.
It was twenty-five miles to Horseshoe Station, and very hard traveling the first part of the way.

But I got to the station, just before daylight, weary and footsore, but exceedingly thankful.
Tired as I was, I woke up the men at the station and told them of my adventure.