“Orders, Boss?” called Pete.
“Ride! Ride the cayuses to death, but get there, that’s all. Go!”
The cowboys pulled their mustangs and fairly lifted them, rearing and wheeling, and were off like projectiles, fierce fires burning in every cowboy heart, and the lust for battle and revenge taking full possession of them.
The Overland Riders were not many seconds behind them in starting, nor did they have to urge their mustangs, who were as eager as they to keep up with the reckless riders ahead, riders that were using spur and voice in the wild night ride up the Coso Valley.
CHAPTER XI
HIPPY DEFENDS THE RANCH
Lieutenant Wingate after a refreshing afternoon’s sleep had remained up long enough to brew tea and fry bacon and eggs for himself. It was dusk when he finished his supper.
“I ought to wash the dishes, I suppose, but I think I’ll let the girls do that. There is some satisfaction in being a convalescent,” he decided, grinning at his own humor. “Queer thing about convalescence—when you get through with your sleep you are ready for another. Ho, hum!”
Hippy, with the aid of a cane, hobbled out to the porch that fronted the valley and sat down on his cot, then lay back breathing in the soft breezes from mountain and plain.
“This is the life,” he muttered, sinking into a half doze.
All at once the Overland Rider pulled himself into keen wakefulness. He was positive that he heard horses approaching, but they seemed to be a long way off. His first thought was that either the Overlanders or some of the cowboys were on their way home, but with the caution born of experience, he decided to lie quietly and wait.