"I'm with you," said Fetter, and mounted old Benson's steed. "Come, Matt, and be quick about it."
By this time Hank Leeson was running around the corner of the cabin, gun in hand. His call had aroused Joe and Darry, and they were pulling on their clothing with all speed.
"Something is wrong!" exclaimed Joe.
"It must be those desperadoes," responded his cousin.
The boys were not yet dressed, when they heard a clatter of hoofs and a shot, followed by another.
Then they came out, rifles in hand, to find Leeson reloading near the stable.
"Those desperadoes have been here!" exclaimed the old trapper. "They ran off with your hosses, consarn 'em!"
"Went off with the horses?" repeated Darry. "Did you shoot at them?"
"I did, but the light's against me, and I don't reckon as how I hit anything." Hank Leeson meditated for a moment. "I've half a mind ter do it—yes, I have!" he muttered.
"Do what?" asked Joe.