Ladd rode a quarter of a mile out upon the flat before anything happened.  Then a whistle rent the still, cold air.  A horse had seen or scented Blanco Sol.  The whistle was prolonged, faint, but clear.  It made the blood thrum in Gale’s ears.  Sol halted.  His head shot up with the old, wild, spirited sweep.  Gale leveled his glass at the patch of mesquites.  He saw the raiders running to an open place, pointing, gesticulating.  The glass brought them so close that he saw the dark faces.  Suddenly they broke and fled back among the trees.  Then he got only white and dark gleams of moving bodies.  Evidently that moment was one of boots, guns, and saddles for the raiders.

Lowering the glass, Gale saw that Blanco Sol had started forward again.  His gait was now a canter, and he had covered another quarter of a mile before horses and raiders appeared upon the outskirts of the mesquites.  Then Blanco Sol stopped.  His shrill, ringing whistle came distinctly to Gale’s ears.  The raiders were mounted on dark horses, and they stood abreast in a motionless line.  Gale chuckled as he appreciated what a puzzle the situation presented for them.  A lone horseman in the middle of the valley did not perhaps seem so menacing himself as the possibilities his presence suggested.

Then Gale saw a raider gallop swiftly from the group toward the farther outlet of the valley.  This might have been owing to characteristic cowardice; but it was more likely a move of the raiders to make sure of retreat.  Undoubtedly Ladd saw this galloping horseman.  A few waiting moments ensued.  The galloping horseman reached the slope, began to climb.  With naked eyes Gale saw a puff of white smoke spring out of the rocks.  Then the raider wheeled his plunging horse back to the level, and went racing wildly down the valley.

The compact bunch of bays and blacks seemed to break apart and spread rapidly from the edge of the mesquites.  Puffs of white smoke indicated firing, and showed the nature of the raiders’ excitement.  They were far out of ordinary range, but they spurred toward Ladd, shooting as they rode.  Ladd held his ground; the big white horse stood like a rock in his tracks.  Gale saw little spouts of dust rise in front of Blanco Sol and spread swift as sight to his rear.  The raiders’ bullets, striking low, were skipping along the hard, bare floor of the valley.  Then Ladd raised the long rifle.  There was no smoke, but three high, spanging reports rang out.  A gap opened in the dark line of advancing horsemen; then a riderless steed sheered off to the right.  Blanco Sol seemed to turn as on a pivot and charged back toward the lower end of the valley.  He circled over to Gale’s right and stretched out into his run.  There were now five raiders in pursuit, and they came sweeping down, yelling and shooting, evidently sure of their quarry.  Ladd reserved his fire.  He kept turning from back to front in his saddle.