How much of an accident could that be ``?

Nearing home, he jerked to attention at the distant crack of a gun. In town no one paid much attention to an occasional shot; but on the range gunfire had a meaning. Hauling up, Russ listened carefully. Two minutes later it came again -- a double explosion, followed by a third, sounding more distant.

As near as Cobb could determine the shots came from the direction of the Antler ranch house. He tightened up in a twinkling. So far as he knew, only his father could be there. What did it mean? Clapping spurs to the bronc he set off at a sharp canter, with growing alarm.

His first glimpse of the ranch house across the brushy swells told him nothing. Still a quarter-mile away, the fresh clap of guns only served to increase his speed. Setting a course straight for the house, he was covering ground fast when an angry bee buzzed past close to his face.

When it was followed by a second, whining even closer, Cobb swerved sharply aside into a depression. He knew now what he was up against. Whoever was out there hiding in the brushy cover was besieging the Antler house and, having spotted his approach, was determined to drive him off before he could get into the fight.

Cursing himself for having ridden out the last few days without a rifle in his saddle boot, Russ drew his Colt and examined it briefly. If he wondered whether the attackers would allow him to pull away unmolested, he had his answer a moment later.