"Don't kill the poor horses! Shoot the human brutes!"
Then he began firing, and, if his nerve had been as steady as Frank's, scarcely one of the six would have escaped. As it was, he quickly wounded two of them.
This was a reception the men had not counted on. Those whose horses had not been shot made haste to rein about and dash away, one with a dangling arm, while the others leaped to the shelter of the rocks.
"Now they have us cornered!" came fiercely from Bart's lips. "If you had not wasted your bullets, Frank, we would have the advantage now."
"Don't you care," laughed Frank, lightly. "We are hotter company than they were looking for, and I rather fancy we'll be able to give them a jolly good racket."
Frank was in a reckless mood. Danger ever seemed to affect him thus. A bullet tore his hat from his head, but he picked it up, laughing, as if it were all sport.
For some minutes the boys and their enemies popped away at each other, and then, from the opposite direction along the ravine, came the sound of galloping horses.
"Here come our friends!" cried Bart, joyfully. "We are all right now! Those chaps will have to take to their heels."
Suddenly a sharp whistle rang through the ravine from above, and the party below answered in a similar manner.