“Load up again, boys,” said the Beaver Captain, “for we may have another tussle. Keep out of sight, and let every bullet find a mark. Be steady.”
Just issued from a fierce struggle, and while some of their friends lay dead at their feet, these men cheerfully prepared for a new battle. The long line of horsemen came on in Indian fashion, until about three hundred yards from the timber, when they halted, and two men rode out toward the camp, evidently with peaceful intent. As they came nearer, Dave recognized Old Pegs and Whirlwind.
“It’s all right, boys,” he cried; “lay down your guns and get torches. Some of our poor fellows need our aid.”
While the men were making preparations he slipped out to meet the new-comers.
“Don’t tell me I ain’t in time, Dave,” growled Old Pegs, “acause I’d be like enuff ter hit ye. Them cusses bin at you, eh?”
“They gave us a benefit, just now. If you want fun, Whirlwind, you may overtake them before they get very deep into the foot-hills.”
“Which way?” cried Whirlwind, his nostrils dilating. “Whirlwind will go.”
“Set some scouts on them if you can’t bring them to a fight, for we want to know where they go. The country has got to be cleared of this scum, somehow.”
Whirlwind made no reply, but calling to his men they went off like the wind in the direction taken by the outlaws. Old Pegs looked after them wistfully.
“I’d like ter go with ’em, Dave, only if they ketch them critters I’m afraid Whirlwind will find himself in the position of the man that caught the Tartar. Lost some of yer boys?”