The face which had been so cruelly, so grotesquely revealed was that of Frenchy McAllister, and across his knees lay a heavy caliber Winchester.

A curse escaped from the lips of the outlaw; the man on the stump spat at a firefly and smiled.
From the south came the crack of rifles, incessant and sharp.

The reports rolled from one end of the clearing to the other and seemed to sweep in waves from the center of the line to the ends.

Faintly in the infrequent lulls in the firing came an occasional report from the rear of the corral, where some desperate rustler paid for his venture.
Buck went along the line and spoke to the riflemen, and after some time had passed and the light had become stronger, he collected the men into groups of five and six.

Taking one group and watching it closely, it could be seen that there was a world of meaning in this maneuver.