"All right," agreed Hall, "and if we find cover in time I'll slip down and spy on the house."
"Bad business," grumbled Meshackatee, "don't like this a little bit. Them cowboys are out for our hair."
They remained at the lookout until it was dark and then, packing swiftly, struck out to the west, following cow-trails clear to the creek. There they watered their horses and started up the other side; but the canyon which they ascended boxed up near the summit and they had to return to the creek. Meshackatee's plans had gone awry, putting him in a very bad humor; but after thinking it over he moved up a side canyon and took shelter on a bench above the stream.
Here they tied out their horses in a narrow cove which was surrounded on three sides by wooded slopes; and then, with his dog sleeping against his back, Meshackatee sprawled out and went to sleep. But the failure of their plans had left McIvor uneasy—he did not approve of this camp above the trail; and as morning approached he rose up silently and felt his way down to the stream. This was the hour that he dreaded, just before the break of day, and he crept along the ground regardless of the dew which weighed down the heavy grass.
There had been noises in the night and 'Pache had growled repeatedly, some wild cattle had jumped suddenly and fled; and as he drew near the water he noticed that the grass had been trampled on the opposite side of the stream. He slipped down closer, hardly stirring a twig as he moved, and the first flush of dawn showed men's tracks in the sand—and the dew had been knocked from the grass! He lay silent, his heart thumping; there was a stir across the creek, a stir and the hunch of a head. That was enough—he glided away like a rattlesnake, and Meshackatee woke up with a jump. They were surrounded—he knew that from the look in Hall's eyes—and, catching up his gun from the fold of his blanket, he rolled over behind a big rock.
"Where are they at?" he whispered, and when Hall told him he grunted and began to pile up rocks. Hall dug in also, making a loop-hole through which to shoot and laying out his cartridges in rows; and 'Pache, sensing the enemy, crouched down anxiously between them, growling low and sniffing the wind. A deathlike silence fell upon the narrow canyon as they settled back to wait for the attack; but not a bush stirred—the Scarboroughs were still hoping they would saddle up and ride down the hill. Ride up to their very guns and then with one volley they could snuff out their lives together. But their ambush had been detected and now Meshackatee and Hall were searching the brushy hillside for a target.
"No use," complained Meshackatee, "they must've heard us digging. Let's start something, before they scatter out."
He took off his old hat and stuck it on a stick and as it bobbed above the boulder an explosive bullet struck it, spattering the ground about them with lead. 'Pache yelped as it struck him and cringed down beside Meshackatee who was cursing at the hole in his hat; and then Hall saw a movement below the smoke puff and answered with a shot that drew a volley. The whole hillside seemed to belch forth smoke, but the bullets for the most part went high; the Scarboroughs were below them, hidden away among the boulders which had fallen from the rimrock above.
"They can't reach us," chuckled Meshackatee, snuggling up to his loop-hole and shooting back at the smoke; but a crash from behind brought them both to a right-about and raised a cheer from below. The explosive bullets had stampeded their pack-horse and they were just in time to see him go smashing through the brush and fall into the creek-bed below.