Tad turned to look at them now.
The sight was one calculated to stir the heart and quicken the pulses of any boy. But the face of Tad Butler reflected only mild curiosity as he gazed inquiringly at the dashing horsemen, each one of whom was riding standing in his stirrups waving sombrero and gun on high.
What interested the freckle-faced boy most was their masterful horsemanship.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!" exploded the foremost of the riders.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
As many puffs of white smoke leaped into the air from the revolvers of the skylarking cowmen.
"W-h-o-o-o-p-e!" they chorused in a mighty yell, letting go at the same time a rattling fire.
"Y-e-e-e-o-w!"
As they swept down toward the spot where Tad was sitting on his pony, the cowboys swung into line six abreast, thus filling the street from curb to curb.
This time, however, instead of shooting into the air, they lowered the muzzles of their revolvers, sending volley after volley into the street ahead of them, the leaden missiles viciously kicking up the dirt into miniature clouds, like those from heavy drops of rain in advance of a thunder squall.