“We’re takin’ chances on that,” was the short reply. “And listen—here’s the last word. You get out o’ that hole, and do it before mornin’, if yuh ever want to see Brewster ag’in. D’yuh get that?”
“We hear what you say,” Larry answered.
“Well, here’s my affidavy!” yapped the voice in the darkness, and a rifle cracked and a bullet whizzed past the cave mouth so near that Larry said he felt the wind of it—as he probably did.
“Give me elbow room!” grated little Purdick, pressing forward with his gun, and leaning out past Larry. But the would-be assassin was too wary to betray his whereabouts, and though they waited breathlessly for many minutes with all their five senses concentrated in the listening nerve, they were not able to catch the slightest sound to betray the manner or direction of his retreat.
“Well,” said Larry, at the end of the breathless interval, “that fellow said that we didn’t know what we were up against, but I guess we do. I don’t believe he was bluffing, though maybe he was.”
“Not on your life!” Dick exclaimed. “The gold vein may pinch out in the next ten feet, or it may be worth a million dollars. Nobody can tell, of course; but on a chance like that, a bunch of desperate men wouldn’t stop a minute at wiping the three of us out to get hold of it. And I’m not so sure they couldn’t do it and get away with it. We haven’t seen another living soul between the two ranges all summer—except my old Daddy Longbeard away over yonder under Mule-Ear Pass—and if our folks should turn out search parties, they might look for a year without getting any trace of us.”
Larry was silent for a moment. Then he said: “Does that mean that you think we ought to back-track while we can, Dick?”
“Not a bit of it!” was the stout-hearted rejoinder. “At least, not for me. How about you, Purdy?”
Once again the small one surprised his two camp-mates.