The cracking of rifles was almost continuous in that fatal triangle, in which the sheepmen formed two points, and the cowmen the tragic third.
As the trapped fifteen rushed their mounts toward the shelter of the western hills, drawing farther away from their eastern enemies, they were forced to a nearer approach to the ranch house, to run the gantlet of its concealed sharp-shooters.

A galloping horse, with its rider, does not offer an easy mark; fifteen of them, the objective of twenty rifles, form a better target.

And when Mart Cooley's followers reached the shadows of the farther hills, they did not number fifteen, but eight.
It was into this party of flying horsemen that Injun and Whitey were carried bodily.

As darkness had come on, the boys had ridden cautiously in the tracks of the advancing party.

They had been attracted by the sound of the shots, and approached as near as they dared, to witness the battle.