"Fellows, we are about at the end of our rope. Give me the arrows. Then, you two make your get-away. But be careful not to expose your bodies to the fire of those brutes. When you get far enough away run for Ben Tackers' cabin. You can hide there, anyway," directed Tad Butler.
"Yes, but what are you going to do? You surely don't intend to remain here?" protested Walter.
"I'm going to cover your retreat. They'll think we have no more ammunition left and then they'll start to rush us. That's the time I'll surprise them. We have a few arrows left. They won't be so fast to——"
"See here, Tad Butler, what do you take us for?" demanded Walter, his eyes snapping. "Do you think we are going to desert you and leave you here, perhaps to be killed?"
"While we run away?" added Ned. "I guess not. What breed of tenderfoot do you think we belong to?"
"No! We stay with you," announced Walter firmly.
"Oh, very well. I'm sorry. Hold your arrows till you have to shoot, but it would be much better for you to go while you have a chance."
Recognizing the helplessness of the boys, the mountaineers began moving on their position, revolver shots occasionally zipping against the rocks. It was almost impossible for the boys to return the fire with their few remaining arrows, for fear of exposing themselves to too great danger.
"I guess it's about up with us," said Tad, coolly stringing his last arrow.