With one swing of his body, Hamlin was upon the ground, and had jerked
open the inside door of the coach, forcing it back against the dirt of
the bluff which towered in protection above. His eyes were quick to
perceive the peculiar advantage of position; that their assailants
would be compelled to advance from only one direction. The three
within were barely struggling to their feet, dazed, bewildered, failing
as yet to comprehend fully those distant yells, when he sprang into
their midst, uttering his swift orders, and unceremoniously jerking the
men into position for defence.

"Here, quick now! Don't waste time! It's a matter of seconds, I tell
you! They're coming--a horde of them. Here, Moylan, take this rifle
barrel and knock a hole through the back there big enough to sight out
of. Hit it hard, damn you, it's a case of life or death! What have
you got, Gonzales? A revolver? Into that window there, and blaze
away; you 've got the reputation of a gun-man; now let's see you prove
it. Get back in the corner, miss, so I can slip past--no, lie down
below the fire line!"

"But--but I will not!" and she faced him, her face white, but her eyes
shining. "I can shoot! See!" and she flashed a pearl-handled revolver
defiantly. The Sergeant thrust her unceremoniously aside and plunged
across to the opposite window, gripping his Henry rifle.

"Do as I say," he growled. "This is our fight. Get down! Now, you
terriers, let them have it!"

There was a wild skurrying of mounted figures almost at the coach
wheels, hair streaming, feathers waving, lean, red arms thrown up, the
air vocal with shrill outcries--then the dull bark of a Henry, the boom