Guerrilla Range

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The house was beyond saving. Flames were shooting out of the windows and even the roof was burning. It was a matter of minutes before it would collapse.

Ethel Morgan saw the smoke a mile away. She put the little pinto to the gallop. The animal burst around a turn in the road, full into the clearing. Ethel cried out in horror when she saw the blazing house.

She swung down from her horse and rushed toward the little group that stood, watching the flames destroy the place that had been the dwelling of Karl Hawkinson and his wife.

“Why are you all standing here?” she cried. “Why don’t you do something to put out the fire?”

Big Jim Sutton winked at Ethel. “Why, sure, Miss Ethel, you don’t think we could do anythin’ now?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to do anything, anytime,” Ethel retorted angrily. She whirled toward another man, saw that it was Dave Daggett and gave him a look of utter contempt.

Daggett immediately defended himself. “Now, Miss Ethel, don’t go lookin’ at me like that. I didn’t set the house afire.”

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