“They’ll try a flank attack next time,” Keller told himself.

Up to date the honors were easily his.  He had put three horses out of commission and disabled one of the outlaws so badly that he would prove negligible in the attack.  Peering down, he could see Healy, with superb contempt for the marksman above, slowly and carefully carry his wounded comrade to shelter.  The other men were already driven back to cover.  The cattle, excited by the firing, were milling round and round uneasily.

Healy laid the wounded man down, knelt beside him, and gave him water from his flask.  The man was plainly hard hit, though he was not bleeding much.

“Where is it, Duke?  Can I do anything for you, old fellow?”

The dying man shook his head and whispered hoarsely:  “I’ve got mine, Brill.  Shot to pieces.  I’m dying right now.  Get out while you can.  Don’t mind me.”

His chief swore softly.  “We’ll get him right, Duke.  Brad’s after him now.  Buck up, old pard.  You’ll worry through yet.”

“Not this time, Brill.  I’ve played rustler once too often.”

Keller, far up on the precipice, became aware of approaching riders long before the outlaws below could see them.  He counted eight—­nine—­ten men, still black dots in a cloud of dust.  This he knew must be Phil’s posse.

If he could hold the rustlers for ten minutes more they would be caught like rats in a trap.  Once or twice he glanced behind him as a precaution against some one of the enemy climbing Point o’ Rocks from the defile, but he gave this little consideration.  He had not seen Brad when he disappeared into the mesquite, and he supposed all of the rustlers were still in the Pass five hundred feet below him.

What he had expected was that they would force their way up the defile for a quarter of a mile and strike the easy trail that ran from the rear to the top of the Point.  He wondered that this had not occurred to Healy.

In point of fact it had, but the outlaw leader knew that as they picked their way among the broken boulders of the gulch bottom the enemy would have them in the open for more than a hundred yards of slow going.  He had chosen the alternative of sending Brad quietly up the rough face of the cliff.  The other plan would do as a last resource if this failed.

Healy believed that his enemy had been delivered into his hands.  After Keller had been killed they would toss his body down into the Pass, and while his companions continued the drive to Mexico, Healy would return to get help for Duke and spread the story he wanted to get out.  The main features of that tale would be that he and Duke had cut their trail by accident, suspected rustling, and followed as far as the Mimbres Pass, where Keller had shot Duke and been in turn shot by Healy.

It was a neat plan, and one that would have been fairly sure of success but for one unforeseen contingency—­the approach of Yeager’s posse a half hour too soon.  Healy heard them coming, knew he was trapped, and attempted to force an escape through the narrows in front of Point o’ Rocks.