But Duncan paid no attention, searching, in an agony of haste, for his lost knife.
Burt promptly performed his task. The other Canadian, with more coolness than the other drivers, seeing what was desired, waited for no orders, but drove his wagon in a line with the others.
“Now all hands get to work and unhitch the horses. Don’t be in a hurry; buckles can’t be managed without coolness and deliberation.”
The men went to work with dispatch, yet coolly, and in a few moments the horses were detached from the wagons.
“Now, you drivers take the horses aside, and the rest of us will draw the wagons together.”
The Canadians did as commanded, and the remainder drew the wagons together; then the horses were tied firmly to the wheels on the side next the knoll. Now they were in quite a snug and secure fort, with a barricade of wagons in front, and a small hill behind.
After this short but highly necessary work was finished, Cimarron Jack looked closely at his rifle, desiring the others to do the same. He carefully reloaded his “Colt’s six-shooters,” and laid them before him on the wheel-hub.
“Now, boys,” he said, “we are in tolerable circumstances for the present, but there is no knowing how long we will remain so. Rot those cussed devils out there! there’s an army of ’em!”
“Fifteen,” corrected Simpson.
“Fifteen to seven. Oh, that ain’t as bad as it might be.”