“No.”
“Thet’s good.”
The two riders again settled down to their work, pushing their ponies to utmost speed. Then they observed that the ruffians were beginning to spread out, to scatter, a move that Two-gun Pete understood perfectly. They were planning to take to the mountains as individuals rather than as a body. This would make pursuit more difficult, in fact, practically impossible.
Both Tom and Pete had had many close calls from bullets, but neither gave much heed to them. They were too busy to consider something that had passed, and again, they had advantage in that they were pursuing while their adversaries were fleeing before them.
“Now give ’em the rifles!” yelled Pete as the pursued riders neared the foothills. “Keep shootin’!”
The pair unlimbered their rifles, and soon afterwards other cowpunchers who had joined them did the same. The heavy firing was plainly audible to the girls of the Overland party, who, fearing for their companions, were very nervous, and Joe Bindloss paced back and forth at the camp listening, his face stern, both hands tightly clenched.
“I hope they kill some of them devils! I hope they do!” he growled.
In the meantime Tom Gray and the cowpunchers were at it hammer and tongs, nor did they cease firing until the last of the supposed horse thieves were out of sight in the deep shadows in the foothills.
“I reckon thet’s about all,” observed Two-gun Pete dryly. “What I wants to know is whar thet fightin’ friend of yours is.”
“Can’t we give Lieutenant Wingate a gun signal to come in?” asked Tom, a note of anxiety in his tone.