The three stared blankly into the night, while their hands sought gun butts and loosened the weapons in their holsters. Out of the blackness came little foreign sounds that they interpreted according to their powers. The tiny clink of metal, the faint thud of horses' hoofs, an exclamation that had barely been above the speaker's breath floated up to them through the stillness. The glow of the lantern showed through the tent wall.
"Two riders," mouthed Sandy so softly that Mormon and Sam swung heads to catch his words. "Came up the valley t'other side of the crick. Both crossed it above the tent. Reckon they're visitin' us. One of 'em's comin' this way."
They crouched, breathless now, listening to the soft padded sounds that told of the approach of man and horse. These ceased. Still they could see nothing. Then there came a sharp shrill whistle, answered from the levels. Followed instantly the thud of galloping ponies going at top speed, parallel, one between the watchers and the tent as they saw the swift shadow shade the glow for an instant, the other between the tent and the creek. There was a sharp swishing as of something whipping brush.
"Yi-yi-yippy!" The cries rang out exultant as the horses dashed by the tunnel. The light in the tent wavered, went out. There was a shout of surprise and dismay, a twang like the snapping of a mighty bowstring and then came the whoops of the trio from the Three Star as they realized what the attempt had been and how it had failed.
Two riders, trailing a rope, had raced down the valley hoping to sweep away the tent, to send its occupant sprawling, its contents scattered in a confusion of which advantage would be taken to chase the three off their claims, taken by surprise, made ridiculous.
Sandy and Sam, searching for a convenient tent site, had happened upon a mass of outcrop, overgrown by brush. Over this they had pitched the tent, using the rock for table, propping their dummies about it. If dynamite was flung it would find something to work against. They had not anticipated the use of the rope to demolish the canvas any more than the two riders had expected to bring up against a boulder. The impact, with their ponies spurred, urged on by their shouts to their limit, tore the cinches of one saddle loose, jerked it from the horse and catapulted the unprepared rider over its head, flying through the air to land heavily, while his mount, unencumbered, frightened, went careering off leaving its breathless master stunned amid the sage.
As the cinches had given way at one end, the line itself had parted at the other. The second pony had stumbled sidewise, rolling before the man was free from the saddle. They could hear it thrashing in the willows, the rider cursing as he tried to remount while Sandy ran cat-footed down the hill, leaving Mormon and Sam to handle the other. If there had been assistants to the raid they had melted away, willing enough to join in a drive against men yanked from their tent, defenseless, but not at all eager to face the guns of those same men on the alert, the aggressive.
Mormon and Sam found their man groaning and limp.
"Don't believe he's bu'sted anything," announced Sam, "'less he's druv his neck inter his shoulders. Got his saddle, Mormon?"
"Yep. Want the rope?"