"An' he's worse off than we are, being alone," commented Neal. "Hey! One
of us better make a break for help--my ranch's the nearest. What d'ye
say?"
"It's suicide; they'll get you before you get ten feet," Barr replied
with conviction.
"No; they won't--the corral hides the back door, an' all the firing
is on this side. I can sneak along the back wall an' by keeping the
buildings atween me an' them, get a long ways off before they know
anything about it. Then it's a dash--an' they can't catch me. But can
you fellers hold out if I do?"
"Two can hold out as good as three--go ahead," Johnny replied. "Leave me
some of yore Colt cartridges, though. You can't use 'em all before you
get home."
"Don't stop fer that; there's a shelfful of all kinds behind the
counter," Barr interposed.
"Well, so long an' good luck," and the rear door closed, and softly this
time.
"Two hours is some wait under the present circumstances," Barr muttered,
shifting his position behind his barricade. "He can't do it in less,
nohow."
Johnny ducked and looked foolish. "Missed me by a foot," he explained.
"He can't do it in two--not there an' back," he replied. "The trail is
mud over the fetlocks. Give him three at the least."
"They ain't shooting as much as they was before."
"Waiting till they gets sober, I reckon," Johnny replied.
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