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Range Bats

by Lester Dent

Mystery stalked the range and no man knew his own doggies. Then came that day when the Lazy-L staged an ambush.

THE long-faced puncher was half asleep in the saddle when his piebald spooked. The bronc reared, tried to leap sidewise out of the trail rut. Failing to get its feet high enough, it fell. The long-faced puncher got his boots out of the tapped stirrups as it went down. Momentum flung him to his knees in the greasewood. He crawled to get clear of the floundering piebald.

A voice roared, "Tie into 'im!"

A man crashed onto the crawling puncher, mashing him down with thick legs scissored about his stomach, thick arms corded about his neck. The puncher clawed for his gun. Another man ran up, stepped on his groping hand, seized the six and threw it away in the moonlight.

The long-faced ranny, drawing his chin into his neck, managed to bite an arm encased in a yellow slicker sleeve. The owner yelped and yanked it away.

The ranny squirmed. His digging fingers gouged into a soft stomach. He twisted and yanked.

"Hell, stomp on him!" his assailant squalled.

The second attacker drove out a foot. The ranny let go the stomach to catch the foot. The man gave a yodel of agony and turned completely over in the air to keep his leg from breaking.

"Boss, help us!" he screeched.

Price: $0.99

Format: Electronic PDF File
8 Pages
First Published: 1932

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