"They look like bandits," acknowledged Frank.
"It is Pacheco's band!" cried Bushnell, hastily securing his rifle. "Ther pizen varmints hev come ten minutes too soon! Ther balloon would take us all over in another ten minutes, but now it won't carry more than two. We must hold ther skunks off till she fills."
"Right!" shouted Frank Merriwell. "And we must be ready to go the instant she does fill. We can't hold 'em back long, for we have no shelter here. Professor, Hans, into that car! Get in, I say, and be ready! We'll try to stand the whelps off till the balloon is inflated, but we must be ready to start at any instant."
Professor Scotch and Hans were hastily bundled into the car.
The bandits hesitated long enough to gather and prepare for the charge, with their chief in the lead. It was plain they saw the treasure-seekers had no shelter, and they meant to close in without delay.
"Reddy for 'em, Frank!" called Bushnell, dropping on one knee, his Winchester in his hands. "They're comin' right soon!"
This was true. With mad cries and a fusillade of shots, the bandits charged.
Bushnell opened fire, and Frank followed his example. Several of the bandits were seen to fall, but still the others came on.
"Lead won't stop 'em!" snarled the Westerner. "It'll be hand ter hand in a jiffy."
"And that means——"