Read The Collected Short Stories of Louis L'Amour, Volume Four for Free Online Page B

through the thigh.
    “The leg…two feet low.”
    The fallen rider, the man shot through the leg, was lucky, for Tola Beg now had their range. The yak hunter’s next three targets died instantly, felled by bullets they didn’t even hear.
    Soldiers dove for cover; in moments the top of the plateau was empty but for standing horses. Tohkta had spotted where Chu Shih had gone to ground, and from that shallow depression he saw a flicker of movement and, a moment later, could hear the distant sound of a barked order. The hand of Chu Shih went up and gestured right and left. Instantly, six soldiers moved the one way, and six the other, advancing to flank Tohkta’s small party.
    But Tohkta had planned for this. He opened up on the men to the right and Loshed joined him. While they lacked the practice of the old hunter, both had good eyes, and soon they forced their targets further off down the top of the plateau, out of range.
    Occasionally shots clattered in the rocks around them, but their cover was good and the range extreme. Several of the main party had pushed the advance and were struggling to set up a machine gun. “They have come far to die,” Tola Beg said, and squeezed off two shots.
    Out upon the granite a man screamed and died. And then the six flankers to the left ran into Ibrahim and Basruddin, belly down in the snow. Tohkta could not see all that happened, but within a moment five of the Chinese were dead; the last shot down as he ran panic-stricken back toward the main body.
    Tohkta and Loshed cheered…and then the machine gun opened up. Tracers flew, like flickering meteors, the snow and earth around Basruddin shredded, the bullets throwing up gouts of mud then blood as the gun crew expertly worked their weapon. The heavy throbbing of shots ended, then the bullets were striking around them!
    Tracers flashed toward the rocks. Loshed howled, a bright red line appearing on the back of his hand. Tola Beg twisted out of the way, grimacing as his back spasmed. Three times dust jumped from his heavy sheepskin coat and then there was blood on his lips. Tohkta dropped behind a rock trembling. He glanced at Loshed.
    “The old hawk is dead.” Scattered flakes of snow drifted from the dark sky.
    “Basruddin, too, and maybe Ibrahim,” Tohkta said. Behind them the machine gun lashed the rock, and ricochets whined off into the clouds like banshees. Then the fire tore high into the air to drop down and the end of its arc spattering like heavy rain inside their fort of rock. The gunner worked the falling bullets back and forth.
    How can you fight this weapon? Tohkta damned himself for a fool. You couldn’t raise your head, you couldn’t even take cover. It took the random inaccuracy of rifle ammunition at long range and used that to its advantage, peppering a whole area with fire. Under its protection Chu Shih’s soldiers would be advancing.
    “Run to the horses,” Tohkta commanded. “Our other position is useless. Get to the bridge. We will put our trust in God and Batai Khan. Let us hope that one or the other is ready for us.”
    They ran. First Loshed, then Tohkta, who paused a moment to scoop up the ammunition of Tola Beg and to touch his cold form once on the back. They ran with bullets hitting all around them, but the light was going and with the oncoming storm, snow filled the air. Then a rifle opened up seeking out the oncoming soldiers from the rocks at the head of the trail, covering them as they ran. They came to the horses, sliding down the hillside, landing in trampled snow. Ibrahim was waiting for them. He grinned. “I killed two more. They will be Basruddin’s servants in heaven!”
    Stepping into the saddle, Tohkta could clearly see the advancing Chinese, spread out in a skirmish line. The squad with the machine gun was struggling forward with the heavy weapon, the altitude weighing them down as much as the ammunition and tripod. Behind them, almost hidden by the swirling veils of snow, Chu Shih was