All who remained in the camp were on the lookout, and each man stood ready with his weapon to do what he could to defend the place should the occasion arise. But with the explosion and the rattle of rifle and pistol shots that followed, the conflict seemed to die down, and presently all became utter silence; and thus two more hours passed.
“Whoever they were, they seem to have left this vicinity entirely,” said Roger.
“I wish it was morning,” put in another of the young men present. The watching was beginning to get on his nerves.
At last, just as the first streaks of dawn were beginning to show in the eastern sky, a number of horsemen were descried approaching from the southward. All in the camp were instantly on their guard, but it was soon seen that it was their friends who were coming back. They came in somewhat of a horseshoe formation, driving in their midst four prisoners, one of them with his arm done up in a sling and another with his head bandaged.
“They’ve got somebody!” exclaimed Roger, as the crowd came closer, “Four greasers!”
“Three of them look like Mexicans, but the other fellow looks like an American,” returned Dave, as the party came to a halt in front of the camp buildings.
Those who had come in were at once surrounded by the others, who wanted to know the particulars of what had taken place.
“It was a band of about thirty greasers, and with them were two or three Americans,” announced Frank Andrews. “They went down to old man Tolman’s corral and tried to drive off about two hundred head of cattle. They got away from the ranch, and then part of the gang came over this way in the vicinity of the new bridge. We had two running fights with them, and then they let the cattle go and started for the 244 Rio Grande. But before they went one of the rascals set off a bomb near the end of the bridge and blew up a corner of the foundation.”
“Why in the world did they want to blow up the bridge?” demanded Mr. Obray.