“Lie down in the canoe,” I whispered to Betty. “They must have missed us; I’m going to take a little look.”
When she had obeyed, and could not see what I did, I slipped the safety catch off my pistol and crept forward to the mouth of the cave.
I was right; some one was walking near the cave. After a few seconds I could make out the heavy footsteps of two men. They were walking carelessly, brush crackling beneath their feet, and they were coming down-hill. Suddenly from some distance off came the sound of a sharp whistle twice repeated. The footsteps stopped.
“There,” said a voice. “Wha’d’ I tell you? The cap’s given up, too, and it’s a case of get back to the boat for us.”
“I tell you,” responded a second voice, “I don’t believe it was the guys we’re after at all. They’re old-timers and wise guys. It don’t seem nach’rel they’d go shooting this close to the water, where they knew we’d be sure to hear it. That was a revolver, too.”
“Who the —— else would it be, then?” demanded the first man. “There ain’t nobody else to do any revolver shooting round here, is they? Sure it was the guys we’re after. Nobody else. They’re hard up fer grub, and had to shoot something wherever they could get it—nobody else ’round here.”
“There’s that —— Pitt, an’ the skirt the cap’s gone crazy about, ain’t there? They’re loose somewhere in the valley, too, ain’t they?”
“Sure. They got no revolver, though. He ain’t a shootin’ man, either. Naw; it was those miner guys who fired that shot, all right; an’ they’re old-timers an’ beat it like —— right away an’ kept traveling, so we didn’t find them or their trail. They might be layin’ round here some place at that.”
“Well, come on. Let’s get down.”
Their footsteps sounded again on the ground. I placed my eyes to an interstice in the brush and peered out. Perhaps fifty feet north of the cave two of Brack’s men were slouching down-hill toward the boat, their rifles hanging carelessly over their shoulders like men who are returning from an unsuccessful hunt.