“Don’t use that gun unless you have to,” warned Dave, who did not favor any shooting, even in an extreme case like this.
“I’ll not give a rascal like Porton the chance to shoot me first,” retorted Roger. “That fellow ought to be in jail, and you know it.”
To this our hero did not answer. He felt in his pocket to make sure that his own weapon was ready for use.
Not a sound from the other buildings had reached them, nor did any one appear to be in sight.
“Looks to me as if we were in sole possession, now that those guerrillas have gone,” announced Roger. “Wow! I hope they don’t come back,––at least not until we are safe on our side of the Rio Grande,” he added grimly.
“Come on, we’ll take a look through the buildings,” answered Dave. “Don’t make any noise if you can possibly help it.”
Leaving the building which they had first entered––an abandoned stable––they moved through a broken-down cow-shed to a long, low structure which had evidently been used by the helpers on the ranch. This building was also deserted, and all that remained in it was some filthy bedding alive with vermin.
“Come on, let us get out of here,” remarked Roger, as he looked with disfavor at the squalor presented. “How can human beings live like this, Dave?”
“I don’t know, Roger. This place ought to be burned down––it’s the only way to get it clean,” Dave added, shaking his head in disgust over the sight.