“That’s the way I understood it,” said Purdick.
“Then when they do come up and find us gone, they’ll have to go back after the horses before they can follow us.”
“Which is lucky for us,” Larry put in. “As long as the trail stays as good as it is right along here, they can cover three miles to our one. How far did you say it was from our camp back to theirs, Purdy?”
“I’m no good at guessing distances in a crooked canyon in the dark,” Purdick admitted. “But it can’t be over a short quarter of a mile.”
“Not much comfort in that,” Larry grumbled. “Did you see the horses?”
“No; but I couldn’t see much of anything. Their fire was built in a little side gulch and it didn’t shine out into the main canyon, and the moon wasn’t up, then.”
“Our best hope is that they’re not hurrying about putting the raiding job over,” was Dick’s contribution to the discussion. “If they’ll only give us time to reach the bad going——”
The interruption was the distant crack of a rifle, a single shot that repeated itself in a series of battledore and shuttlecock echoes from the mountain sides on either hand.
“What does that mean?” Dick demanded.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” said Larry. “But if you ask me, I’ll say it’s a signal. Just for a try at it, suppose two of them have come up to put the raiding job over. They’ve found the birds flown, and now they’re telling the third man to come on with the horses. Am I right?”