CHAPTER XXIX
A FIGHT FOR LIFE
The boys did not need any exhortation on the necessity of fighting to the last. They knew that the issue was fairly joined and could only be finally settled by the complete victory of one side or the other. The malignant threats of Ramirez still rang in their ears, and they had not the slightest doubt that the scoundrel would do exactly what he had stated, in case any of them were luckless enough to fall into his hands.
So they looked well to their weapons in the period of respite that ensued, and prepared for the coming onset. Yet as hour after hour passed without any move on the part of the enemy, they grew puzzled. Why was the attack delayed?
Once at some distance off in the woods they heard a shot, followed by a scream.
“Have they got to fighting among themselves, I wonder,” remarked Phil.
“It would solve our problem if they’d only kill each other off like so many Kilkenny cats,” said Tom.
“I guess that was Ramirez enforcing discipline and killing one of his rascals to cow the others,” concluded Benton. “If so, it makes one less for us to handle.”
Another half hour passed, and still the attack hung fire.
“They’ll have to come along pretty soon or it will be daylight, and that will be all to our advantage,” muttered Benton in some perplexity at the enemy’s tactics.
Just then there came a sharp exclamation from Phil. His eyes were keener than those of any of the others, and he had detected a black blur that to him indicated a massing of men.