“Boys,” said Varley in a low voice, “we shall go to Dog’s Ear and demand Esmeralda. Let no man speak but me; let no man fire a shot or strike a blow unless I give the word.”
The men gave a hoarse assent, and the band went forward, Varley and Norman leading the way.
“They will not harm her?” said Norman, almost inaudibly.
“They dare not,” said Varley, hoarsely—“they dare not!”
“You mean that they will hold her to ransom?” asked Norman, feverishly.
Varley nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “or they would have killed her at the hut.”
Norman drew a long breath of relief. They rode on in silence, the dull thud of the horses’ hoofs breaking the deep silence of the night. As they approached Dog’s Ear they heard the baying of dogs, then saw lights moving to and fro. It was evident that the camp had been made aware of their approach.
Dog’s Ear lay in a little hollow, and as Varley and Norman rode down the winding pathway, almost at full gallop, they heard men shouting, and presently saw forms looming in the semi-darkness. They rode straight into the camp, and were instantly surrounded by a crowd of men and women, the former with their revolvers in their hands.
One man, a burly fellow as large as Taffy, and evidently one of the leaders, pushed forward and looked up at Varley with a scowl of surprise and resentment.