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The Killer by Stewart Edward White
page 130 of 336 (38%)
"I kind of think we've got 'em all," was the latter's opinion. "We
haven't had a sound out of 'em for a half hour. It may be a trick, of
course."

"Sure they haven't slipped by you?" suggested the seƱor.

"Pretty certain. We've got a close circle."

"Well, I wouldn't take chances in the dark. Just lay low 'till morning."

We returned to the ranch house where, after a little further discussion,
I bedded down and immediately fell into a deep sleep. This was more and
longer continued excitement than I was used to.

I was afoot with the first stirrings of dawn, you may be sure, and out
to join the party that moved with infinite precaution on the water
troughs as soon as it was light enough to see clearly. We found them
riddled with bullets and the water all run out. Gleaming brass
cartridges scattered, catching the first rays of the sun, attested the
vigour of the defence. Four bodies lay huddled on the ground under the
partial shelter of the troughs. I saw Ramon, his face frowning and
sinister even in death, his right hand still grasping tenaciously the
stock of his Winchester; and Andreas flat on his face; and two others
whom I did not recognize. Ramon had been hit at least four times. But of
Hooper himself was no hide nor hair! So certain had we been that he had
escaped to this spot with his familiars that we were completely taken
aback at his absence.

"We got just about as much sense as a bunch of sheepmen!" cried Buck
Johnson, exasperated. "He's probably been hiding out somewhere about the
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