The man seemed to think he might have money sewed in his long johns, and insisted he take them off. Hutto poked him with the barrels of the shotgun, something he couldn't ignore. He took them off and stood there naked, hoping Janey wouldn't look.

Of course the men found the thirty dollars he was carrying in his old wallet-it represented a month's wages, and was all he had to finish the trip with. But they had found that before they made him strip. They seemed reluctant to believe it was all the money he had, and casually proceeded to pick his clothes apart with their knives.

"The thirty dollars is all I got," he said several times.

"I guess you wouldn't be the first man to lie," Jim said, picking at the seams of his pants to see if he had any greenbacks sewed in them.

Roscoe was appalled, for the clothes that were being destroyed were the only ones he owned. Then he remembered that he was going to be killed anyway and felt a little better. It was very embarrassing to him to have to stand there naked.

The men weren't watching Janey-they were too intent on trying to find money in his saddlebags. While they were all ignoring her she had been quietly scooting backwards on the slick grass. Jim had his back to her and Hutto was winding Roscoe's old pocket watch. Roscoe happened to look and saw that Janey was quietly creeping away; they had tied her hands but had neglected her feet. Suddenly she began to run. It was deep dusk and in a second she had got into the tall grass north of the gully. She made no sound, but Hutto must have sensed something, for he whirled and let go a blast with the shotgun. Roscoe flinched. Hutto fired the other barrel, and Jim turned and shot three times with Roscoe's own pistol, which he had stuck in his belt.

Roscoe peered into the dusk, but there was no sign of Janey. The bandits looked too, with no better luck.

"Reckon we hit her?" Jim asked.

"Nope," Hutto said. "She got in that tall grass."

"Well, she could be hit," Jim said.

"I could be General Lee, only I ain't," Hutto remarked, looking disgusted. "Why didn't you tie her feet?"

"Why didn't you?" Jim retorted.

"I wasn't sitting on her," Hutto said.

"You watch this one and I'll go catch her," Jim said. "I bet once I do she won't get away for a while."

"Why, Jim, you can't catch her," Hutto said. "In this dark? Remember how she ambushed us? If she was a better shot we'd both be corpses, and if she's got a rifle hid out there somewhere we may be corpses yet."

"I ain't scared of her," Jim said. "Dern her, I should have cracked her with a gun barrel a time or two."

"You should have shot her," Hutto said. "I know you expected to amuse yourself, but look how it turned out. The girl got away and the deputy only had thirty dollars and some dirty underwear."

"She can't be far," Jim said. "Let's camp and look for her in the morning."

"Well, you can, but I'm going," Hutto said. "A girl that size ain't worth tracking."

Just as he said it, a good-sized rock came flying through the air and hit him right in the mouth. He was so surprised he slipped and sat down. The rock had smashed his lips; blood poured down his chin. A second later another hit Jim in the ribs. Jim drew a pistol and fired several times in the direction the rocks came from.

"Oh, stop wasting shells," Hutto said. He spat out a mouthful of blood.

Two more rocks came flying in, both aimed at Jim. One hit him right in the elbow, causing him to double over in pain. The other flew over his head.

Hutto seemed to think the whole thing was funny. He sat on the muddy ground, laughing and spitting great mouthfuls of blood. Jim crouched down, pistol drawn, watching for rocks.

"This beats all I ever heard of," Hutto said. "Here we are in a rock fight with a girl no bigger than a minute, and she's winning. If news of this gets out we'll have to retire."

He looked at Roscoe, who was standing stock-still. One of the rocks had just missed him-he didn't want to move and risk interfering with Janey's aim.

"By God, when I get her she'll wish she'd kept a-running," Jim said, cocking his gun. A second later a rock hit him on the shoulder and the gun went off. Furious, he fired into the darkness until the pistol was empty.

"Well, we'll sure have to kill this deputy now," Hutto remarked. He wiggled a loose tooth with a bloody finger. "If he was to tell about this, our reputation as desperados would be ruint forever."

"Then why don't you get up and help me rush her?" Jim said angrily.

"Oh, I think we should just sit and let her chunk us to death," Hutto said. "I think it serves us right for being idiots. You was scared of this deputy, when lie ain't no more dangerous than a chicken. Maybe next time you'll be content to shoot when I want to shoot."

Jim opened his pistol. He was trying to reload and watch for rocks, too, squinting into the darkness. Another rock came in low and he managed to turn and take it on his thigh, but it caused him to drop three bullets.

Roscoe was beginning to feel more hopeful. He was remembering all the varmints Janey had brought into camp-probably she had used them to sharpen her aim. His hope was she'd start throwing for the head before the men got around to killing him.

Hutto was calmer than Jim. He reached over, got his shotgun and broke the breach.

"I'll tell you, Jim," he said, "you just keep sitting there drawing her fire. I'll load up with some buckshot. Maybe if she don't brain you before the moon rises, I can catch the angle and shoot her. Or at least chase her out of chunkin' range."

He reached into the pocket of his buckskin coat for some shells, and as he did, a miracle happened-for in Roscoe's mind a miracle it was. He stood there, naked and wet, sure to be murdered within a few minutes unless a slip of a girl, armed only with rocks, could defeat two grown men armed with guns. He himself was so sure of being killed that he felt rather detached from what was happening, and invested only faint hope in Janey's chances of saving him.

Nobody saw July come. Hutto was reaching in his pocket for shells and Jim was trying to fish those he had dropped out of the mud. Roscoe was watching Jim, whom he liked least. He was hoping to see a big rock hit Jim right between the eyes, perhaps cracking his skull. It wouldn't stop Hutto from killing him, but it would be some consolation if Jim got his skull cracked first.

Then, at the same moment, Jim, Hutto, and he himself all became aware that someone was there who hadn't been. It was July Johnson, standing behind Jim with his pistol drawn and cocked.

"You won't need them shells," July said quietly. "Just leave 'em lie."

"Well, you son of a bitch," Jim said, "what gives you the right to pull a gun on me?"

Jim looked up, and just as he did, the rock Roscoe had been hoping for sailed in and hit him right in the throat. He dropped his gun and fell over backwards. He lay there clutching his throat and trying desperately to draw breath.

Hutto had two shotgun shells in his hand but he didn't try to shove them in the shotgun. "I've had bad luck before, but nothing to top this," he said, ignoring July and looking at Roscoe. "Can't you at least make that gal stop throwing rocks?"

Roscoe was having trouble believing what he saw. He felt he had missed a step or two in the proceedings somehow.

"Are you gonna get your clothes on or are you just going to stand there?" July asked.

It sounded like July, and it looked like July, so Roscoe was forced to conclude that he was saved. He had been in the process of adjusting to impending death, and it seemed to him a part of him must already have left for the other place, because he felt sort of absent and dull. Ordinarily he would not have stood around on a muddy prairie naked, and yet in some ways it was easier than having to pick up the pieces of his life again, which meant, first off, having to literally pick up pieces of his clothes.