"I thought you told us there wouldn't be more than a few cow-punchers here," said Bill Bender angrily, as they pressed on behind the cattle, which were now loping fast toward the mountains.
"Well, I thought so. How was I to know they'd have an army out?"
"That's what they've got. Hark at that!"
A fresh yell from the Boy Scouts broke out behind the disguised raiders, and this time it sounded closer.
"Speed up those cattle," shouted Clark Jennings desperately; "we've got to get to the mountains before they close on us."
A volley of pistol shots was the answer, but the raiders fired above the cattle's backs. A fresh burst of speed followed from the frightened animals, which were now fairly stampeding. The shouts and yells and the constant cracking of pistols drove them into a frenzy of fear. On and on swept the mad advance.
"If once they get to the hills, we may as well give them up!" shouted Harry, above the deafening hammer of the galloping Boy Scouts.
"Yes, we'd better pump some lead into them!" yelled Bill Simmons.
"On no account," shouted back Rob. "Use your ropes, but no shooting."
Fast as the mavericks were urged on, they could not make the same speed over the rough ground that the ponies of their tormentors achieved. This fact naturally held back the line of disguised white raiders and permitted the Boy Scouts to close up on them. Before long they were so close that they could see the headdresses and blankets of the supposed Indians, waving above the dark line of racing steers.