PAINTED ROCK
"Dern my luck," said Walker, "that's five dollars."
He made a motion to get out of those who stood with him, and Bill Davies almost called to him.
"It's not my funeral," he said grimly as he restrained himself. And he looked again at the window. On the sill, close to the corner, he saw something move a little.
"That lets me out," said Walker, cursing as he stepped back clear of his companions. And as he did so there was a deafening report. Bill saw flame leap from the muzzle of a gun, and Walker threw up his hands and gasped horribly. Then he pitched upon the floor and lay there. A dozen men had their "guns" in their hands at the sound.
"By God!" said one of them, "that was from the winder."
One man, quicker than the rest, put up his hand, pulled the string of the lamp, and the room was in darkness. Bill Davies jumped to the window and through it, and came upon Jeff Dexter with his shot-gun in his hand. The boy was crying dreadfully. Before they
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