"Walk, hell!" came Turk's shaking voice. "I can't move … Where's my gun? Where …"
The snap and spurt of Bill Rice's rifle … flame and report from Steele's like an echo … two shots from above. And Turk cursing and seeking his gun in the dark, lying on the ground, his leg broken, an ugly rain of crashing boulders about him …
For Steele to go to Turk was like crossing some violent stream of death. And yet he did go, and went unharmed and found Turk's shoulders just as the groping hands found the rifle on the ground. While Bill Rice stood up and pumped lead into the shadows from which other lead was pumped back at him, Steele dragged Turk Wilson a dozen paces, letting him sink down in the shelter of a protecting boulder. Where Turk promptly fainted.
For a little Steele held his fire. In a moment his frowning eyes found Bill Rice's heavy form close at hand; Rice, too, was reserving his fire now, watching grimly for a definite target. Steele drew him back a couple of paces, saying in his ear:
"Let 'em guess a while. Bill. Back here where Turk is their boulders can't reach us. Then …"
Then there came from the other side of the cañon a spurt of fire, a snarling report which reverberated between the rocky walls, and a bullet flattened against the boulder under which Turk lay.
"Taking us on both sides, eh?" grunted Steele. "If there ever was a play earmarked all over as an Embry product, it's this one. … Save your lead. Bill. Those jaspers are either just trying to scare us out or
