250 | John W. Warner IV at having been caught with his pants down taking a much-needed piss at the worst of times. The taller man, laughing, weighted down by leather bandoliers of ammunition, made a sign to hand over the binoculars. Unarmed, Bernie did so, pulling his pants up and fastening his belt, smiling at them to help ease tensions. The tall bandit suddenly fell off his horse to the astonishment of his swarthy companion and Bernie, shot in the chest as a sharp report sounded in the distance. The other bandit shot Rodgers in the hip with his pistol as his Arabian reared up sensing danger, the horses sometimes smarter than their riders. The bullet exited out his ass cheek; Bernie dropped to his knees and howled in pain while another distant shot brought his antagonist down hard, his second pistol shot missing Bernie by inches. Rolling, Bernie evaded the panicked horses hooves. Bea and Alice were sighted in. Four hundred yards. He grabbed the thrashing horse and hauled himself up in agony. Were fucked! Great notice was taken in the village. Horses were mounted on the run with Arabic yells and whoops. They split instinctively into two groups to flank their unseen enemyunwelcome infidels and perhaps rivals. Time to skee-daddle! yelled Bernie, kicking his horse in just the right spot for full gallop. Six riders followed him at a ninety yards and closing, their rifle fire haphazard. Bernies horse was hit on a steep rise and he fell forward as it reared; he rolled on the ground just as his father had taught him to as a boy, the many falls a badge of honor. Dammit! Gwafa came down on the run. He helped him up and handed Bernie his Thompson and ammunition holster. So much for keeping silent, hissed Gwafa, cocking his BAR as they took cover behind a large boulder. God, dont hit the poor horses if you can help it, said Bernie, shaking, ramming in a magazine with a blood-caked hand. They waited patiently, then squeezed triggers. AU six riders went down, the hailstorm of automatic fire devastating. One horse was wounded and went wild with pain. Gwafa reloaded a magazine. Sorry. Bernie used his belt to tie a tourniquet, but with an entry and exit wound it was useless. Shit! This is a royal fuck-up of titanic proportions. Gwafa scanned for the enemy high and low. I dont see the other riders!Bernie held out a hand. Help me walk. Lets find the girls.