"And make a killin' if yuh kin.

It'll make 'em mad, but it'll hold 'em back fer a spell." Lite, the crack rifle-shot of Luck's company and the man who had taught Jean Douglas to shoot with such wonderful precision, wheeled his horse short around and pulled him to a stand, lined up his rifle sights and crooked his finger on the trigger.

And away back there among the Indians a pony reared, and then pitched forward.
"I sure do bate to shoot down a horse," Lite explained shamefacedly, "but I never did kill a man--" "We-ell, I calc'late mebby yuh will, 'fore you're let out from this yere meetin'," Applehead prophesied drily.

"Now, dang it, RIDE!".