“How, when they are nearly half-a-mile away? There is neither bridle nor saddle to be seen.”
“Oh no, of course not,” said Chris, brightening up. “Then, after having a good look at them, the band will ride right away.”
“That is doubtful,” said the doctor gravely.
“Why, they can’t get down there.”
“No, but they can make a long détour and get down to the gulch, and then make their way into the depression and capture us all, men and boys, ponies and mules.”
“Oh!” ejaculated Chris. Then quickly, “How long will it take them to get round?”
“I wish I knew, my boy,” said the doctor sadly. “We ought to have explored the gulch and seen how it was connected with the tableland yonder. But there, it is of no use to regret the past; we must think about the present.”
“Yes,” grunted Griggs, and his voice roused the doctor into action.
“What do you say, Griggs?” he cried. “My idea is to wait till the enemy—I suppose we must look upon them as the enemy—have gone out of sight, and that we then load up and retreat as fast as we can.”
“Too late,” said Griggs gruffly; “we may come right upon them.”