"I thought you had been setting off fire crackers, Bert."
"Fire crackers nothing!" ejaculated Bert, his face ghastly. "Man alive, that's a fight going on up the slope between United States officers and a lot of desperate moonshiners! There goes the firing again."
Bayliss heard it; he couldn't help that.
Then still nearer rang out the firing.
"We've got to get out of here as fast as our legs will take us,"
Bert insisted. "Hustle before the bullets reach us."
At that moment Dave Darrin broke from cover, running as fast as his legs could carry him. As he raced toward camp Darrin called:
"Reade! Danny! This is Darrin. Get ready to run or fight.
It's a fearful affair. Four of the marshals were down when I
left, and Dick Prescott is done for, too! Oh, it's fearful!
There won't be any of the government party left!"
Apparent terror rang in Darrin's voice as he ran forward flourishing his "Quaker" rifle.
"Great Scott!" groaned Bayliss, trying to rise and run, though his legs shook under him.
"Buck up! Don't be a coward!" hissed Dodge, seizing his companion by the arm. "Come on! Run for it—-before we're hit."