“Only, what?” demanded Jimmie.
“Only it strikes me,” Ben continued, “that we’ve stumbled on a streak of luck.”
“I don’t see how!” Jimmie argued.
“Look here,” explained Ben, “if Phillips and Mendoza are in this vicinity they are familiar with the stir of outlaw life about this place. It is quite probable that they know exactly what is going on, and it is also quite probable that they have not made their presence here known to the smugglers.”
“Do you get the idea?” asked Carl turning to Jimmie. “I’ll tell you right now that I don’t.”
“So, you see,” Ben went on with a tolerant smile, “the outlaws will credit any rumpus that takes place here to the smugglers.”
“That’s all right, so far as we’re concerned,” replied Jimmie, “but what will the smugglers say to our nesting down here and cuddling up to them?”
“I can answer that question!” Carl cut in. “The first time we leave camp they’ll smash our machines and consume our provisions!”
“I’m not so sure about that,” Ben mused. “I have an idea that they’ll just naturally get their imported Chinamen out of the way and abandon the camp!”
“That beacon fire to the south may be shouting a warning to the skies right now!” Jimmie exclaimed. “They may be sending a mob up here, right now, to steal our machines and give us decent burial.”