"
He flushed underneath the tan, but very plainly with pleasure.
"Your opinions are right contrary to Hoyle, ma'am. Aren't you
aware that a sheepman is the lowest thing that walks? Ask Mr.
McWilliams."
"I have known stockmen of that opinion, but--"
The foreman's sentence was never finished. From a clump of bushes
a hundred yards away came the crack of a rifle. A bullet sang
past, cutting a line that left on one side of it Bannister, on
the other Miss Messiter and her foreman. Instantly the two men
slid from their horses on the farther side, dragged down the
young woman behind the cover of the broncos, and arranged the
three ponies so as to give her the greatest protection available.
Somehow the weapons that garnished them had leaped to their hands
before their feet touched the ground.
"That coyote isn't one of our men. I'll back that opinion high,"
said McWilliams promptly.
"Who is he?" the girl whispered.
"That's what we're going to find out pretty soon," returned
Bannister grimly. "Chances are it's me he is trying to gather.
Now, I'm going to make a break for that cottonwood. When I go,
you better run up a white handkerchief and move back from the
firing-line.
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