"Quit foolin'," McHale replied. "I been thinkin' of it for hours. I could drink that there lake dry."
Still nothing happened. The waiting began to get on their nerves.
"What d'you s'pose they're framing up?" Sandy asked.
"Don't know. Durn it! I can't do nothin' unless they run in on us," McHale grumbled. "Wisht I could hold a rifle."
"Let 'em try to run in," said Sandy grimly. He had McHale's rifle in addition to his own. "They've got to come two hundred yards without cover. I'll stop every blamed one of them in one hundred."
Suddenly he lifted his rifle, hesitated, and lay with his cheek to the stock, staring along the sights.
"See somethin'?" McHale asked.
"Over there past those jack pines. Man on a horse. He'll come out again."
Far off among the trees they saw not one mounted man, but several. They could catch glimpses merely. The horsemen appeared to be making for the valley, but not by the way in which they had come.
"By thunder!" cried McHale, "it looks like they're pullin' out."