"What is it, my boy?"
"Why can't we elevate hats and caps on rifle-barrels and let them blaze away at those? That would soon empty their ammunition belts."
"A good idea," said Mr. Merrill, while the other ranchers warmly approved. The preparations to carry out Jack's plan were rapidly made. Soon, what was apparently a head, was poked above the ridge. A perfect fusillade of bullets came showering about it.
"Drop it," cried Jack. "Make it look as if the man was killed."
The ruse worked perfectly. Every time a "head" appeared, a tornado of bullets rattled about it, and the riddled condition of the caps and hats thus held up, bore eloquent testimony to the efficacy of the enemy's marksmen.
Finally, however, the fire began to slacken. Instead of a hail of bullets, only two or three greeted the appearance of a head.
The moment they had waited for had arrived. With a cheer, the full force of rurales leaped from the trenches.
"Come on!" shouted Jack, but Mr. Merrill restrained him.
"Remember, we are in a foreign country, my boy. The rurales must do the work or we shall be in serious trouble."
"Oh, bother," cried Jack, "and I wanted to see the attack."