Eph gave the heavy door several violent kicks the moment it was within reach, and the sound could not only have been heard throughout the interior, but a long way beyond. The Apaches were sure to make a speedy investigation.
Fortunately for the trapper he was not kept long in suspense. Bell Rickard could not fail to hear the energetic summons, and quickly called from one of the upper windows, taking care not to expose himself:
“Who’s there?”
“Me, Eph Bozeman.”
“Where the mischief did you come from?” asked the criminal, now venturing to thrust his head from the window.
“Never mind whar I come from,” replied the impatient applicant; “come down an’ let me in powerful quick or you won’t git the chance to let me in at all.”
“All right! I’ll be there.”
It seemed a long while before Rickard descended to the door, during every second of which Eph expected the Apaches. He stood ready to let fly with rifle and revolver at the first sight, but, while waiting, he heard Rickard at the door, which was speedily unbarred, and he stepped inside more quickly than he had ever done anything of the kind before.
All was dark, but Rickard did not speak until he had refastened the door, which was composed of a species of carved wood, still seen in the old mission houses of the Southwest, which is hardly less strong and endurable than the adobe walls themselves.