Again Norton interrupted sternly.

“Let’s have it straight, Elmer,” he commanded.  “Brocky and his men are along the arroyo, you say?  And they’re trying to keep between del Rio and the Kid’s crowd and the other crowd?  Some of the others are still on the mountain, then?”

“The mountain is full of them.  They’re pouring down and shooting as they come; Brocky’s in between. . . .”

“How many men are with him?”

“About twenty.  But . . . my God!  Rickard’s men and del Rio’s are shooting from the east and the others are shooting from the west . . . poor old Tommy Rudge got shot in the stomach and Denny Blain is down and . . .”

“Del Rio and Rickard didn’t come in machines did they?”

“No.  Brocky said tell you they’d left their cars, sent them on filled with loot toward the south, where a lot of other Greasers are waiting for them; then the Kid and del Rio and about fifty men altogether started a big herd of horses and cattle this way.  Brocky tried to stampede the herds, but the others are more than two to one, so he got his men in the arroyo and they’re giving ’em hell from there.”

“Galloway’s on the other side?”

“No.  Brocky said tell you Galloway hadn’t shown up yet.  We think he didn’t expect things to get started so soon.  One of Brocky’s men riding in a little while ago from the other side of San Juan thought that he had seen Galloway and some one that looked like a girl riding with him toward the old crossroads where the Denbar place used to be.  Brocky thinks maybe you can come in and head Galloway off and bust up the whole play that way.”

So Galloway and “some one who looked like a girl” had ridden toward the old Denbar cross-roads.  And Galloway had not yet joined his forces.

“Elmer,” said Norton quickly, “ride on to San Juan.  Tell John Engle what you have told me about Galloway.  Tell him . . .”

“I won’t!” cried Elmer, on the verge of hysteria.  “I won’t do it.  Do it yourself; send some one else.  I want to go with you; I want a rifle, I tell you!  Didn’t I see Tommy Rudge go down with a bullet in his belly?  Didn’t I see Denny when the Kid shot him?”

Norton laid a hand on Elmer’s arm, speaking quietly.

“Listen, Elmer,” he said.  “We will do what we can where Brocky is.  But that isn’t all of the devilment to-night.  Galloway got Florrie away somehow; she was the one riding with him toward the crossroads.  It’s up to you to ride on and ride like the devil and tell John Engle. . . .  Come on, boys!”

Elmer sagged in his saddle as though he had been struck a heavy physical blow.

“Galloway got Fluff!” he muttered dully.

His gaze trailed along after the departing posse.  Norton on his big roan was setting the pace, the steady swinging gallop to eat up the miles swiftly and yet not kill the horses before the journey’s end.  The others followed him, stringing out single file to take advantage of the trail.  The moon picked them out with clear relief, a grim line of retribution.  And yet the boy, while his eyes wandered after them, saw only little Fluff struggling in Jim Galloway’s arms. . . .