“You didn’t think I was going to turn tail and run when the boys were being held up, did you?”
Polly’s eyes shone with a mixture of fear and excitement.
“Do you mean it’s a real hold-up?” she gasped.
“Haven’t the least idea, but it sure does look like one, especially if that’s Pachuca, himself, on that sorrel. Then, again, it may be the Federal Government quartering men on us. In either case ladies and horse-flesh are better out of the way.”
“But I’m not afraid,” cried the girl, her teeth chattering with excitement. “At least, I don’t think I am—much. Anyhow, I’ll be lots more scared down here in this hole alone.”
“You won’t be alone; you’ve got two good horses to take care of. Thank the Lord, Hard is out of it—that’s three horses we can save.”
Hard had ridden to Conejo the day before and had not returned.
“I’m going to leave you this.” Scott took his revolver from the holster and handed it to the girl, who took it reluctantly.
“I’m more afraid of it than I am of Juan Pachuca,” she pleaded.
“You’ve no call to be,” was the reply. “Don’t be a baby—brace up and stay here with these horses. They’re not looking for you and they’ll never come down here. These are the two best horses we’ve got and I’m cussed if I’m going to hand ’em over to a bunch of greasers.”