“Teddy!” Roy whispered. “Get along side of me—like this. When I yell, we both jump together. You fellows follow. Ready?”
There was no need to answer. Roy saw his brother’s face twitching eagerly, saw the shoulders hunched, the neck craned forward.
“Ye-o-o-w!”
“Get ’em, boys! Knock’ em cold, if you have to, but get ’em!”
There was a fierce, sudden rush! Yells! Shouts!
“Hey! what in thunder’s this? Hey, you, take that gun outen my mouth!”
“They got us, Bill! Ouch, that’s my nose! All right! You win! Only let up, fer Pete’s sake!”
A short, desperate scuffle followed. The dull thud of a few blows, and Bill and his companion were sitting stupidly on the ground, stripped of their guns, the moon shining on two very much astounded cattle-rustlers who shook their heads in a dazed manner.
“If we had knowd you was goin’ to roughhouse,” Bill began in an aggrieved tone, “Sam an’ me would’ve—”
“Nick—” Roy spoke sharply—“you stay here and watch these men! If they give you any trouble, shoot!”