And he worked like a beaver to help Hal lash the remaining arms upon other horses.
There were many cartridge belts strewn around. These, too, were lashed across the saddles, as well as a few cases of ammunition.
“Here are four less of the enemy for our men to deal with,” cried Juan, spurning with his foot the body of one of the four slain sentinels.
“It was a tremendous piece of cheek,” blurted Hal, vaulting into one of the saddles, and seizing the halters of two led pack horses.
“The Spaniards must still be running,” chuckled Juan.
“I imagine few of them stopped for their clothes,” laughed Hal. “But mount, my friend, mount! When the enemy halt——”
“It will be a half an hour before they do,” derided Ramirez. “Oh, mi amigo, you were born a master of strategy. It was magnificent—that charge of a battalion of trees—that fusilade fired by four hands!”
“Into saddle! forward!” urged Hal. “It is our turn to laugh, now, but in sixty seconds it may not be. When the enemy discover the trick, rivers of blood would not satisfy them!”
Smiling grimly, with a full realization of the peril, Hal Maynard urged his mount into a trot.