Silently they approached the horses, which stood quietly a few yards away. A sentry passed nearby, and the four companions dropped to the ground. Fortunately, the sentry did not look in their direction.
"That's what I call luck," whispered Hal.
From behind the sounds of confusion became more audible, indicating the rapid approach of the crowd. At the same time lights flared up in the huts, and an officer stepped to the entrance of one only a few feet from the four friends.
He espied them on the instant, and then the lieutenant acted.
"Quick!" he cried, and jumped toward the horses.
A revolver cracked, and a bullet whined over Hal's head even as he leaped forward.
With a bound all four fugitives were among the horses, and almost with a single movement each threw himself into a saddle.
But at that moment the camp came to life. Armed men sprang up on all sides.
In the very act of digging his heel into his horse's flank, the lieutenant pulled up.
"It's no use," he said quietly to his friends. "To move is certain death."