NASH STARTS THE FINISH Through the windows and the door the cowpunchers fled from the red spurt of the flames, each man for himself, except Shorty Kilrain, who stooped, gathered the lanky frame of Calamity Ben into his arms, and staggered out with his burden.

The great form of William Drew loomed through the night.
His hand on the shoulder of Shorty, he cried: "Is he badly burned ?" "Shot," said Kilrain bitterly, "by the tenderfoot; done for." It was strange to hear the big voice go shrill with pain.
"Shot?
By Anthony?
Give him to me." Kilrain lowered his burden to the ground.
"You've got him murdered.

Ain't you through with him?
Calamity, he was my pal!" But the big man thrust him aside and knelt by the stricken cowpuncher.
He commanded: "Gather the boys; form a line of buckets from the pump; fight that fire.

It hasn't a hold on the house yet." The habit of obedience persisted in Kilrain.

Under the glow of the fire, excited by the red light, the other man stood irresolute, eager for action, but not knowing what to do.