"They's a cabin up there," explained Winchester, "kind of a hold-out for horse-thieves, I reckon. The chances are good they'll come back to it."
"Well, let's wait till before daylight," suggested the practical Meshackatee, "and ketch 'em jest at dawn."
"It's a dirty damned way of fighting," grumbled Winchester morosely, "but I'm game—they pulled it on me."
So they slept until the morning star, glowing round like a ball, gave warning that daylight was near; and then, with Winchester ahead, they forded the roaring creek and followed a beaten trail up the canyon. No one or two horses had trampled that broad path—a band had been over it, and more than one band, and they could see the Texans' tracks leading on. At dawn they sighted a house, a small, chunky cabin built from the biggest logs that could be moved; and chock against it was a corral where two jaded ponies stood drooping inside the bars. It stood in a little opening, tucked up under the north hill, and they withdrew to lay their plans.
"We'll surround it," directed Meshackatee, "two men on each side and one here to guard the horses; and the first man that comes out you can all pull down on him—and if he don't halt when I order you can shoot. But if he gits inside that cabin it'll be a long siege at best, because she's mighty nigh bullet-proof."
They separated then, Grimes and Winchester going up one ridge and Meshackatee and Hall up the other; and as the sun began to shine on the bald slopes to the west they settled down to watch the house. It had been built all too evidently for purposes of defense, though no loop-holes appeared in the walls; but no windows appeared either and the door was of heavy oak slabs. The Texans were safe as long as they remained inside of it, and they seemed in no hurry to come out. A shrewd suspicion was beginning to form in Hall's mind that in some way their presence had been discovered, but they waited patiently until the sun was an hour high and then a tall cowboy stumbled out. He was a typical Texan, all boots and high hat, and he headed for the woodpile without so much as a glance at the sinister hillsides above him.
"Put 'em up!" bellowed Meshackatee as the Texan reached for the ax, but instead the man started to run. He did not even look up, simply bolted for the doorway like a rabbit caught away from his hole. But the posse had been watching, and as he started for the door their rifles all spoke at once. The pile of chips at his feet seemed to leap into the air as the bullets struck all around him, but he escaped by some miracle and slammed the door behind him, at which Meshackatee ripped out a great oath.
"Come out of that cabin!" he roared from his hiding-place, "come out, or we'll blow you to hell!"
But the men inside the cabin were punching loop-holes through the chinks and Meshackatee opened fire. The work on the loop-holes was given over precipitately, for the heavy bullets bored their way through the chinks, and when a couple of explosive bullets almost blew down the door the Texans were ready for a parley.
"Who air you fellers, anyway?" they shouted through the doorway. "We're all right—we ain't done nothin'!"