The house was not more than a mile distant and he wondered at the hardihood of his enemy in planning to ambush him so close to his home.

He reflected, though, that it was not likely that the shots could be heard from the house, for the spot on which the wagon stood was several hundred feet above the level of the valley, and then there was the intervening wood, which would dull whatever sound might float in that direction.
Who could his assailant be?
Why, it was Taggart, of course.

Taggart had left town hours before him, he was a coward, and shooting from ambush is a coward's game.
Calumet's blood leaped a little faster in his veins.

He would settle for good with Neal Taggart.

But he did not move except to draw one of his six-shooters and push its muzzle over the edge of the gully.