"Well, I suppose you tell the truth. I was longing to strangle you till I heard your story. I shall not molest you now. Where is Paul? Where are the men?"
"Some of them are dead," answered Bart. "We did not wish to shoot them, but they forced us to do so in self-defense."
At this moment shots and cries came from up the canyon, and, a few seconds later, a man came into view and rode his horse down toward the bowlders which had served the boys as a fort.
It was Jack Long, the sheriff.
"Hurrah!" cried Frank, leaping to his feet and waving his hat. "Our friends are coming!"
Long rode up slowly, gazing in unutterable amazement at dead horses and men stretched on the ground.
"Well," he said, as he drew rein, "it looks like there had been a right smart scrimmage here. Who was in it?"
"We were attacked, and had to stand them off," explained Frank.
"You?" cried the sheriff, his amazement increasing—"you youngsters? Did you do all this shooting?"
"We didn't do all the shooting you may have heard, but we did some of it, and what you see shows we did not waste all our bullets."