Roy Norton

“ A sudden movement on the hillside caught his attention.
There was a swift rush of a black form silhouetted against the whiteness as one of the robbers, adopting new tactics, sought a vantage-point higher on the mountain, from which he might shoot down to the road. Quick as a flash and with deadly certainty, Sandy’s rifle recognized the danger, gave answer, and another huddled heap was added to the morning’s tragedy. ”

“ A gaunt man, rifle in hand, jumped cometlike from the seat beside the dead driver and sought protection and barricade behind the body of a fallen horse. A black barrel was thrust forth from his place of hiding, and instantly carried a messenger of death to the nearest outlaw.
The other two, surprised, balked, and angered, jumped to cover behind convenient boulders, and sent a volley toward the battered old white hat which showed itself above the quivering loins of the dying wheeler. There came no shot in reply. Sandy was biding his time. ”

“ Emboldened by this, the outlaw cautiously got on his feet and peered toward his enemy. Satisfied that he had nothing to fear, he advanced into the open.
Over the field of tragedy he strode, the lust of gold still upon him. He reached the box of the stage, shifted his rifle to the hollow of his arm, and stretched out a grasping hand toward the coveted loot.
The prescience which is every man’s inheritance caused him to turn toward his fallen adversary. ”

“ Even in the land of certainty the unusual happens. So it was that as they rounded the turn of dread Dead-Man’s Curve, there came crisply out in the morning air the command “Halt and hands up! The brakes for yours!”
Sandy, for the instant bewildered, caught a kaleidoscopic glance of two masked men on the hillside above the mountain-road, a menacing figure near the head of the leaders, a pointed rifle, and the driver’s frantic efforts to pull up. ”

“ Sandy involuntarily thrust his hand around the buckskin shirt, which, together with the scant store of wealth, reposed within the sagging folds of his blue flannel shirt.
Great heavens! He had never thought of this before. Suppose they should be held up on this trip? He wouldn’t mind the loss of his poke or any other valuable possession of his own, but the shirt! Why, if the highwaymen got that, his “little pardner” ’way back East would wait disappointed on that fast-approaching Christmas day. “But, shucks! they wa’n’t goin’ to be no hold-up,” and he lighted his pipe. ”