The odds were great, and the advantage lay with the pursued, for they could select ambuscades and take terrible toll from the Circle L men.
Yet Blackburn was determined.

He yelled to the others to take advantage of whatever cover they could find; and he saw them slide from their horses, one after another, and throw themselves into a shallow depression that ran erratically north and south for some distance over the plains.

Before they reached the depression, however, there had come more white puffs of smoke from the space ahead of them, and Blackburn saw two Circle L men slide from their horses with a finality that brought a savage glare into his eyes.
"Shorty," he said, hoarsely, to the big man at his side--who had wriggled behind a rock at the crest of the depression and was coldly and deliberately using the rifle he had taken from the holster on his saddle; "we've got to have help--them scum outnumber us.

You've got the fastest horse an' you're the best rider in the bunch.

An' you've got the most sense.