"Right over there, Cap. They ran in the brush, over by yonder big tree."
"Well, boys, we've got to get them. We'll charge in there."
They pushed rapidly into the bushes without further parley—McDonald heading for the tree, McCauley and McClure spreading out to the right.
Captain Bill made straight for the big tree pointed out by McClure, his gun ready for quick service. It was a still, moonlit place, but brushy and full of shadows, and not easy going. The crack of Winchesters might be expected at any moment.
Suddenly the Captain found himself confronted by a creek, and looking across saw two men with guns, squatting in the weeds. They appeared to be on the point of raising their guns to fire, but with McDonald's appearance and his sharp command, "Hold up there!" made from behind his own leveled Winchester, they were unable to complete the action. Their guns dropped into their laps—they seemed stupefied.
"Throw up your hands!" was the next order.
The hands went up.
"Get up from there!"
One of the men found his voice.
"We can't, Captain, our guns are lying across our laps, cocked. They'll go off if we get up."