came an answering shout. Hemmed in from the fore and the rear, he
swung off at a right angle. An open stretch lay before him, but
he had to take his desperate chance without cover. Anything was
better than to be trapped like a wild beast driven by the beaters
to the guns.

Across the bare, brown mesa he plunged; and before he had taken a
dozen steps the first rifle had located its prey and was sniping
at him. He had perhaps a hundred yards to cover ere the mesa fell
away into a hollow, where he might find temporary protection in
the scrub pines. And now a second marksman joined himself to the
first. But he was going fast, already had covered half the
distance, and it is no easy thing to bring down a live, dodging
target.

Again the first gun spoke, and scored another miss, whereat a
mocking, devilish laugh rang out in the sunshine.

"Y'u boys splash a heap of useless lead around the horizon. I
reckon Cousin Ned's my meat. Y'u see, I get him in the flapper
without spoiling him complete." And at the word he flung the
rifle to his shoulder and fired with no apparent aim.

The running man doubled up like a cottontail, but found his feet
again in an instant, though one arm hung limp by his side. He was
within a dozen feet of the hilldrop and momentary safety.

"Shall I take him, Cap?" cried one of the men.

"No; he's mine." The rifle smoked once more and again the runner